Fugue State
by manic
Summary: The world needs heroes, not spies
1. Books have a shelf life

Based very loosely on the Bedside Challenge at WIKTT, but since that's over, I'm just messing around with the concept.  
  
Disclaimer: JKR owns this all, I'm just playing with the toys.  
  
Rating: R  
  
Pairing: HG/SS  
  
Warning: Not a really happy tale. Nope, not at all  
  
Fugue State  
*************  
  
The final battle between the forces of Light and Voldemort took place the winter of Harry Potter's seventh year on the lei lines of Stonehenge as both sides attempted to tap into the magical forces that permeated throughout the grounds.  
  
In the end, the Order and the Light ruled the day.  
  
In the first minutes after the defeat of Voldemort all the combatants could do was stare at the whirlpool of light and magic that surrounded the corpse of Voldemort as Dumbledore and Harry shouted their final curses at the Dark Lord. His body and power dissipated in a swirl of magic and power few had ever seen. The battle paused as both Death Eaters and the Order's forces stared at Voldemort as his body disintegrated into ashes.  
  
Five minutes after the death of Voldemort, Peter Pettigrew, once a friend of the Marauders and known to them as Wormtail, sobbed as he clutched the ashes of the once powerful lord to him, coating his body in the dregs of the Dark Lord. The remaining Death Eaters, demoralized by the death of the invulnerable and immortal Lord were stunned, captured or killed by the side of the Light. It fell to Sirius Black to capture Pettigrew, once his friend, now a pitiful sobbing fool with one arm. It seemed once Voldemort had died, so had his magical constructions. Pettigrew's arm, used as a tool, fell to the ground in the midst of the ashes. Pettigrew, who's sole contribution to the now famous Marauders' Map had been to procure the parchment, looked up to see his friend and cried. Black, who was by all accounts showing great control, placed Pettigrew in a body bind and turned once again to the battle.  
  
Which was over.  
  
Twenty-four hours after the death Voldemort, the wizarding world celebrated. For a week. Muggles who looked to the skies over England saw colored lights, shooting stars and flocks of owls. Since the Aurora Borealis had never before been seen in England, many thought it was a sign of the Apocalypse. Stonehenge had become impassible as a localized storm and low fog kept everyone away. Even the Druids thought something was amiss. The flocks of owls that crisscrossed the country were discussed and examined on the evening news and by numerous Scientists trying to assure people that this was not a sign of impending doom. All throughout the Muggle world people chatted, prayed and watched for the Four Horsemen. Churches, Synagogues and Mosques were filled as everyone attempted to convince the deities that they were truly pious people.  
  
After a month passed and the world did not end, everyone, Wizard and Muggle alike went about their business.  
  
Forty-five days after the death of Voldemort, the Wizarding world watched as the first of the Death Eater trials began. Based on secret reports from the Order and years of intelligence about the structure of the Death Eaters, prisoners were sentenced accordingly. The reams of parchment on the activities of the Death Eaters went back years and was pronounced irrefutable by both the Minister of Magic, Arthur Weasly and his son Percy. Percy, under who's administration Azkaban fell, for he had taken over after Barty Crouch had died, promised the world that the guilty would spend their lives ensconced in misery and despair. Even so, there were a number of Death Eaters, who's crimes were such that there was no other option but to sentence them to the Dementors' Kiss. The rest were entombed within Azkaban for the remainder of their lives. Those that were injured at the Battle were placed in a special ward in Azkaban until such time as they were fit for trial. The world was finally free of the darkness that had plagued it for more than twenty years. Sighs of relief were heard everywhere.  
  
Two months after the death of Voldemort, the first of the books detailing the Final Battle began to flow into the bookstores. Flourishes and Blotts did swift business as people snatched up every account of the Battle and the War. Most popular were the photo-books of the Battle and its Aftermath and biographies of the Savior of the Wizarding World, Harry Potter. Harry's, who was studying for his Newts at the time, only comment on the deluge of books about him was that he wished he could receive royalties.  
  
Four months after the death of Voldemort, Harry, Hermione and Ron all passed their Newts and left Hogwarts. Griffindor had won the House Cup. Harry was drafted by the English National Quidditch Team and left to train. Ron was traveling in his gap year as he decided what to do with his life. Hermione entered into an Apprenticeship with Grethworn Juglenot, Master of Charms, to obtain a Masters.  
  
Five months after the death of Voldemort, most of the books detailing the fall of He Who Was Now Dead, were placed in the Remainder Bin at the bookshops. The only thing that remained a top seller, and would for years to come, was the poster of the final moments of Voldemort. It showed both Harry and Dumbledore, standing in the smoke and remnants of curses, pointing their wands at the whirlpool of light that was once the Dark Lord. At their feet lay the bodies of numerous Death Eaters. The picture, taken by Colin Creevey, would later win him the Pictorious Prize and a job with the Daily Prophet. Everyone that bought the poster stared at the looks of determination in Harry's and Dumbledore's eyes as they watched for signs of life from the Dark Lord. The picture captured the moment when they turned to one another, moved away from the disintegrated pile of ashes that was now the Dark Lord, and faced any remaining Death Eaters.  
  
Dismissed by all was the Death Eater that lay directly at the feet of Albus Dumbledore. Sprawled at the feet of the headmaster, his robes burnt, covered in blood and gore, the man appeared dead. Most watched as Dumbledore stepped over the body, and turned to the rest of the battle. They stared at the retreating figures of Harry and Dumbledore as they walked into the smoke of the Battle to strike down the remaining Death Eaters. The two heroes of the wizarding world. No one ever noticed that the man at the foot of Dumbledore, twitched his fingers towards the heel of the headmaster as he passed over the Death Eater.   
  
No one at all.  
******** 


	2. Tinsel Wars

Righto... part 2, see disclaimers in part 1 as well as warnings.  
  
Fugue State 2  
********  
It's strange how a person's fate can be so arbitrarily decided. A turn of the wheel, a roll of the dice, or a task assigned to them. Some are born to their fate, nurtured and guided along by caring teachers and parents who instill a sense of values and beliefs into a person. Some are pushed into their roles of life by a father figure. Others are sent along their paths by neglect or need. And for some, no choice is ever given. Their future is never their own and they are always taught to work for the greater good. They are taught to never expect any recognition for their work, for while valued, must always be in secret. They are told that others need their help. That they will be rewarded once their task is done. They will be able to rest. They will be able to be themselves.  
  
Even if, they've never known who they are, only what others have made them to be.   
  
Many are lost to history, to secrets, to the cause. Some escape to the very enemy they are fighting. Most are never found.   
  
And sometimes it's the little things that reveal everything that remained hidden for years. Secrets and plans that were never meant to be brought into the open. Doors that never should be opened, for to do so would be to undermine everything that one believed in. It could shatter a world. Rebuild a soul. Or destroy a man.  
  
In the end, it was a child's homework.  
********  
  
It was a gathering of the Weasley clan. Since Arthur had been made Minister of Magic after Cornelius Fudge had been sent to St. Mungo's in the locked ward, the poor man had lost his mind after discovering that Voldemort had indeed been, alive, the Burrow had undergone a very nice remodeling. There were now five stories, a larger kitchen, an enormous dining room, and for the first time, a bedroom for each Weasley. As Bill and Charlie were wont to complain, it was nice that the parents had fixed the place up after they had left home. There was still no way that anything but magic could hold the house together as the fifth floor was perpendicular to the rest of the house and the fourth floor seemed suspended in space.  
  
But for once, there was enough room for everyone. It was the Christmas holidays and the Burrow smelled of holly, pumpkinog and evergreen. The ceilings of the floors had been removed to make way for a Christmas tree that rivaled the one in the Great Hall of Hogwarts. The one drawback was that in order to get to one's rooms, people had to step around the giant tree piercing through the house, but that was secondary to the festivities in the house.  
  
The tree itself was a marvel unto itself. The branches were hung with tinsel, pine cones and ornaments. All had a mind of their own. The tinsel would change color to suit themselves. Mostly it tried to match the color of the Weasley sweaters that entered the room. It had tried with the new socks and gone into a sulk for a few days. The tinsel didn't appreciate multicolored hues with fuchsia in it. There were ornaments for all the Weasley children on the tree, with the exception of Fred and George. The first time those two had been hung on the tree, they had scared all the other decorations onto the fifth floor of the house as they danced around the tree and spat random pieces of tree and tinsel at anyone who walked by.  
  
They were in a box by themselves.  
  
It had been 363 days since Voldemort had died and no one seemed to be missing the conflict.  
  
Harry, in particular had put the entire thing behind him. His days were filled with Quidditch and brooms and the ever growing groupies who followed him around to every match.   
  
"I can't believe it either Ron."  
  
"Can't believe what Harry?" Asked Hermione as she came into the living room carrying a large plate of cookies, chocolates and candies. A plate so groaning with sweets that her parents would have been sent into an automatic fit, tied her to the dentist chair and cleaned her teeth with a vengeance. She sat down on the floor facing the men, pulled a cushion to her back and stretched her legs out. Her toes were covered in Mrs. Weasley's new knitting project, socks. Very wooly.  
  
"The Americans." Answered Harry as Ron began filling his mouth with sweets and nodding in agreement. "No one expected the Americans to get past round one of the World Cup and now they're in the quarterfinals. The match against Argentina? Amazing."  
  
"Must be the women," mumbled Ron.  
  
"Agreed" answered Harry. "Since the Americans replaced the entire team with women, they've won every game. And their Beaters? Quite frightening actually. I'm hoping that Portugal will knock them out in the Semis, if they get that far."  
  
"I heard their Seeker is rather nice." Commented Hermione as she went for a slice of Mulberry cake.   
  
"Yes," Ron answered.  
  
"Ron, I don't want to hear it. It was bad enough you telling us about that trip you took to Brazil to see that man who stuck things up your nose. I'm not hearing about some crush you have on an American. Really. Have some taste, they don't even speak correctly." exclaimed Ginny from her perch on the couch. She looked up from her History of Hogwarts text and glanced at the trio on the floor. Looking nothing like the heroes of the wizarding world as they stuffed their faces with homemade treats.  
  
"What are you working on Ginny?" Asked Hermione. "It's Christmas, even I'm taking a break this year."  
  
"It's Binns. He's assigned all of us to write about the final Battle so that he can incorporate into the curriculum next year."  
  
"Why the students?" Hermione inquired, "most of you weren't involved with the Battle."  
  
"He wants us to look at how the Battle affected the students and staff. How the House reacted, what the staff did, and what they're doing now. I'm just stuck."  
  
"On what?" Harry offhandedly asked, paging through the latest issue of Quidditch Weekly which feature him on the cover catching the snitch against Scotland.  
  
"Snape."  
  
The three on the floor looked to Ginny in confusion. All wondered why anyone would be focusing on the most hated teacher ever to enter Hogwarts. Everyone had been glad when they had recovered from the celebrations to realize that Snape was nowhere to be found. Headmaster Dumbledore and Poppy had taught the remainder of the school year in Potions and the Headmaster had already hired a new teacher. Not even the Slytherins seemed to mind. They were too busy trying to get through the remaining months without seeing a member of their family in the Prophet sent to Azkaban. The other house had also been affected, but none as much as the Slytherins, and it would take the longest for them to recover.  
  
"What about Snape." asked Hermione.  
  
"Well, there's nothing on him in the History."  
  
"The book's been out for ages Ginny, you must be looking at an older copy." Replied Ron as he glanced over Harry's shoulder an ogled the American Seeker, who was stretched out across her broomstick grabbing for the snitch. "You know if that wasn't a Quidditch move, it would be illegal."  
  
Hermione and Ginny shared a look, thus confirming that Ron had never opened the book other than to pat the cover once in awhile. "The book automatically updates itself Ron," answered Hermione. "That way all the teachers are included as well as the events of the year. If you buy a copy the updates happen automatically. That way nothing is left out."  
  
"That's just it, Hermione," replied Ginny, "Snape's not in it. There's no record of anyone teaching Potions during the time he's been there, it just says Potions was under the supervision of Albus Dumbledore. That could be a typo, but then there's the other problem."  
  
"What's the other problem?" asked Hermione.  
  
"No one knows what happened to Snape before, during or after the Battle. It's as if he vanished off the face of the Earth."  
  
"He didn't vanish Ginny," said the new voice from the doorway.  
  
Ginny and Hermione looked up to see Percy at the doorway, presents floating beside him. Since taking over the position of Head from Crouch, Percy had transformed himself from a young, overworked administrator to a better dressed, oddly formal and very proper administrator. There really wasn't much difference, but he did have better robes.  
  
"Where did he go Percy?" Asked Hermione.  
  
"Azkaban." 


	3. Dessert

All disclaimers and warnings in Part One  
--------  
Fugue State 3  
*******  
Hermione joined the Weasleys and Harry for dinner in the dinning room. Which like the rest of the house had been enlarged to better accommodate the elevated status of the Weasleys. Sitting around the table with the large and boisterous bunch, her mind returned to the news that Snape resided in Azkaban. Unfortunately the chance to ask Percy about the matter did not arise during dinner. Instead the conversation centered around Ron's trip, Harry's Quidditch stories and Fred and George's growing business. After years of conflict and fear of Voldemort, it seemed every corner of the Wizarding world was in need of comic relief. Their crackers and dancing Christmas decorations had been best sellers this past season and with Arthur's new position, for the first time in years the Weasleys were financially comfortable.  
  
The next day also provided little opportunity for any sort of exploration into the fate of Severus Snape. Snowball fights, impromptu quidditch games and the opening of presents were the order of the day. Snape's fate was hardly in the forefront of her mind. If one were to be completely truthful, she hadn't really spared him a thought since dinner. The festivities in the house hardly leant themselves to talk about the war, especially the one teacher who had made her life miserable for seven years. Talk about the War had become tiresome. No one really wanted to hear about it anymore. The remaining trials of the Death Eaters hardly made the papers anymore. Usually the fate of the Death Eater was consigned to page six, behind the quidditch news but before the classifieds. In a little box that most readers of the Daily Prophet were able to skip. Everyone was tired of the news, and the fate of a few stray Death Eaters hardly raised any interest. It wasn't until the third day of Hermione's visit that Percy was asked any questions about Snape's fate and even then, it was Ginny who broached the subject. Her homework was due at the resumption of the school term in five days time.   
  
"Percy, could you tell me why Snape's in Azkaban?" Asked Ginny on the afternoon of the third day. Percy was returning to the Ministry the next morning and Ginny needed the information from him. Hermione only heard the conversation because she was reading quietly in the corner. Ron and Harry had gone down to the local pub and she had declined to go. Ron and harry had made a halfhearted attempt to convince her, but they all realized that the days when they kept together all the time was over. Rationalizing that she would only hinder them in their quest to charm the local witches, she had stayed behind and was only listening with half an ear when Ginny had asked Percy for some information.   
  
"Ginny, I really can't go into official Ministry business." Replied Percy.   
  
"I just need something." Ginny replied exasperated. If she couldn't get some information on Snape, the report would be incomplete and that wouldn't do. "The report has to talk about the staff of Hogwarts and Snape was the Potions Teacher. He's part of it. If I don't get some information on him, I'll fail."  
  
Talk of scholastic failure was something that spurred Percy into giving his sister some of the basics. Next to him, Ginny was the only Weasley that had followed him in academic success. She was a prefect, top in her class in three subjects and after eight Owls, was expected to do very well in her Newts. So, in the interest of academic glory for another Weasley, especially his baby sister on whom he doted, Percy answered what he could.  
  
"Snape's on trial for the usual. Being a Death Eater. The mark is on him. It is quite easy to make the case that someone is a Death Eater if they have the Dark Mark emblazoned on their arm. Snape does. He's a Death Eater. And there are other factors. He was garbed as a Death Eater in the Final Battle. It's a very easy to see that Snape must be punished."  
  
"But I thought he worked for Professor Dumbledore?" Interjected Hermione. "Harry said something before that Snape was providing information to the Order. Wasn't he working for us?"  
  
"Ahh," Percy took in Hermione in the corner of the room, curled in an armchair, "He did provide some information, but there are some discrepancies in both his reports and actions. In addition, there are his actions prior to his joining the Order. He was exonerated once, but some new information has come to light."  
  
"Like what?" asked Ginny, quill in hand. poised over her parchment.  
  
"I can't tell you that, it's official Ministry business and is top secret," said Percy with more than a touch of pride. Since Barty Crouch's unfortunate fate, Percy had been in charge of Azkaban and the related trials. In the aftermath of the Battle, this had the added effect of giving Percy a name within the Wizarding world that was completely separate from the Weasleys. He was the man who put the Death Eaters away. He purged the world of the filth, he cleansed their world. Because of this, Percy was a much valued guest at the homes of the prominent people, the movers and the shakers. His power and respect in his circles rivaled his fathers. He was the keeper of the peace. It was a very serious task. One that Percy knew he was perfectly suited for. He loved the power that went with it.  
  
"Well, why is his trial going on now?" Ginny tried a different track. She needed something for her report other than Snape was a Death Eater.  
  
"Snape's been in the hospital ward until now. He was injured in the Battle and has been unresponsive until now. He began to respond to stimuli this past week, and the doctors have pronounced him fit for trial. Snape has to be able to understand the charges against him. If we weren't sure he could understand the charges against him, we couldn't hold a trial. That would be illegal. We had to wait until he woke up. Once we realized he was conscious and aware of his surroundings, the arrangements were made for his trial. It takes place in two days."  
  
"Can I go?" Asked Ginny eagerly. If she was able to go to an actual Death Eater trial, Binns was sure to give her a pass with distinction. She was willing to bet that all the other students wouldn't get to go to something like that.   
  
"Ginny, the court is closed to the general public. In addition, I'm sure that Father and Mother wouldn't let you go to something like that alone. The information that would come out in trial is bound to be fairly graphic. You're my little sister, I couldn't expose you to that."  
  
"What if I went with her Percy? I'd love to see how the Wizard judicial process differs from the Muggle one. My Mother was once a juror on a civil case and I got to watch a bit of the trial. I'd love to see how a Wizard trial works." Hermione interjected.  
  
Percy looked at the two eager faces in front of him and capitulated. He could never refuse Ginny anything. "I'll check with Father, if he agrees, you might be able to come." Ginny gave an excited squeal and jumped up to hug Percy. "Now don't get too excited. You might not be able to be in there for the whole thing, some of the information is still top secret and is likely to remain so for years, but I'll see if you can at least see some of the trial. But I can't give you an answer yet. Father has to approve it."  
  
"Oh you know he will Percy, I'll go and ask him myself." Said Ginny on the way out of the room. "Say Percy, do you think Snape will get the Dementor's Kiss?" She asked a bit eagerly. Of the Death Eaters who had been sentenced to the Kiss, no information had been made public, only that their crimes were of such a heinous nature that there was no other option but to sentence them to death. Not that she wanted to witness the Dementors doing their work, but it would be really exciting to see someone sentenced to the Kiss. No one in her class could claim that, and she was sure it would bring her some notoriety.  
  
"No, the Kiss isn't on the table for Snape, most likely he'll get a life sentence in Azkaban. He did do some good for the Order, as such we'll spare his life."  
  
"And put him in misery for the rest of his life?" Hermione questioned. She still had a few nightmares about Sirius when she first saw him. Harry had made some offhand remarks that Sirius still suffered from nightmares as a result of his imprisonment. Sometimes Hermione felt that the Kiss was actually a more humane action. Rather like putting an animal down.   
  
"Hermione," Percy explained, "the Kiss is too good for some people. Snape's actions were such that he deserves to spend the rest of his life thinking about his actions. Besides, the git probably never had a happy thought in his life, so he will suffer less than the other prisoners."  
  
"I'll go and ask Dad!" Ginny happily stated and left to find her father. Percy soon followed, probably to assure Arthur that Ginny would not be traumatized by the trial. Hermione was left alone in the study wondering what Snape had done that would warrant a life sentence in Azkaban.  
***  
TBC... 


	4. Ministers get the biggest perks

Part Four (as usual, see disclaimers in part one)  
  
Fugue State 4  
******  
  
Two days later, one year and three days after the death of He Who Was Now Very Dead and Rotting, Hermione and Ginny met outside the Ministry of Magic in London. They entered the building together. Hermione took a step back as the grandeur and the scale of the entrance hall caught her notice. She was reminded of the first time she had walked into the Great Hall at Hogwarts, but smiled with a sense of irony. She had been so fixated on proving to all the non-muggle born witches and wizards that she had just as much right to be at Hogwarts as they, that the wonder of the Great Hall had been lost to her as she explained the magic to her classmates. Now there were no classmates to impress. She had proven herself as one of the more accomplished students ever to leave Hogwarts. Her masters program was one of the best. Hermione could congratulate herself on a bright future in the field of Charms. But that didn't mean she couldn't appreciate the splendor of the Ministry.  
  
The stone walls seemed to rise above ten stories. Capped with gothic arches, the ceiling surpassed anything that Hermione had ever seen. The windows were set in magnificent stained glass that allowed a multitude of colors to shine throughout the hall. Hermione had never seen Wizard stained glass before and her attention was drawn to the windows as the colors shifted in irregular patterns, jumping from one window to another, bringing new light combinations to the hall. From the outside these windows had appeared black and opaque, yet the light on the inside spoke of centuries of craftsmanship and care. Hermione looked closer at the glass and realized that the windows themselves were made of Foe glass. The marbled floor beneath her feet absorbed the sound of her footsteps and those of others. The hall itself was filled with Ministry officials and others, each hurrying silently on to his or hers task. Ginny tugged on her arm impatiently and drew Hermione to the large desk at the center of the Hall. Here all visitors announced themselves and were escorted to their destinations. As the people gave their destinations, elves popped in and out, leading them on their way.   
  
This too, was a consequence of the War. Voldemort had never been able to attack the Ministry itself for the spells protecting it were as old as the Wizarding world. He had contented himself with attacking Ministry personal directly, either through attacks on their homes or persons. In a few cases, Death Eaters had penetrated the Hall and attacked the people within it. As a result of this, floating in and around the Hall were thousands of sneakoscopes and sensory sensors, scanning each individual as they made their way through the Hall. Hermione felt one or two scopes brush her hair as they passed by her and shuttered as the thought passed through her head of all the times she had fibbed to her parents and snuck out after curfew at Hogwarts. Hoping that the sneakoscopes were able to distinguish between some minor infractions of the rules and plans to destroy the Ministry, she allowed Ginny to lead her to the main desk and they waited their turn the queue for a pass to the trial room. Her attention was again drawn to the movements in the Hall as everyone within it moved with a singular purpose to accomplish their chosen tasks. Finally, as she and Ginny reached the front of the desk, they were able to give the purpose of the visit.   
  
"We're here to witness the trial to be held today." Ginny told the witch at the desk. There was a strange silence around them as several of the witches at the main desk looked to the two girls. In contrast to the earlier judgments, witnesses at the trials were no longer a common occurrence. Most trials were held with a minimum of people in attendance, in contrast to the first trials in which hundreds of people had witnessed the proceedings. Those trials had been a test for the Ministry, as the victims of the Death Eaters and the curious had been present. Most to assure themselves that the followers of Voldemort would be punished at last. The replacement of Minister Fudge with Arthur Weasley had calmed most people.   
  
The revelations that some of the oldest Wizarding families, had in fact, been supporters of Voldemort shocked most observers. Never again would a person's position in society allow them to escape justice. The public had been assured by the swift and measured judgments of the tribunals, purging the Wizarding world of those that had followed the Dark Lord Who Was Now Very Dead. But now, months after the original trials, the adjudicators, advocates for the defense and a reporter for the Daily Prophet were the only ones who attended the trials now. The arrival of two young women, who seemed barely out of school, drew some attention.  
  
"We have a note from my father, Arthur Weasley and my brother, Percy Weasley. I'm following the trial for an assignment at Hogwarts and they're allowing us to witness the trial." Said Ginny, producing the note from her robes. The witch checked the official seal of the Minister of Magic that accompanied the note and sat up a little straighter.   
  
"My apologies for not recognizing you sooner, Miss Weasley. Please wait for a moment while I summon an elf." The witch quickly summoned a most senior elf to escort the two young women, hoping to gain the notice of the Minster for her able handling of the young women. She wondered if Miss Weasley would speak favorably to her father for the professionalism in her handling of the situation. After all, it wasn't every day that the daughter of the Minster of Magic came into the Hall. She could be forgiven for her earlier skepticism of their purpose, wouldn't she? If not the witch envisioned a long career as a people greeter in the Hall, never allowed to enter the walls beyond the Hall. She wondered if she should escort the girls herself, before realizing that the doors would never let her pass. She was too junior to be admitted to the main rooms of the Ministry. The best she could do would be to summon the very best elf they had and hope the Minister would notice the care she had taken with his daughter and her friend. "Please enjoy your visit to the Ministry, Miss Weasley, if you need any further assistance, please don't hesitate to ask. Anyone will be happy to help you." "Thanks," grinned Ginny. An elf popped into place beside the girls and bid them to follow him as he lead them through the Hall to the doors that separated the main hall from the Ministry itself. The doors opened before the girls and together with the elf they disappeared into the Ministry, and the trial of Severus Snape.  
  
Hermione couldn't help herself as her eyes darted from side to side as she took in the main Ministry. Here was where the Wizarding world governed. She felt honored and, if she was completely honest with herself, a little intimidated. The Ministry looked like an amalgamation of many eras. The rooms and corridors twisted and turned, without the elf leading the way, Hermione knew she would be lost amid the corridors and pathways until she died. "Have you ever been here before, Ginny?" she asked as the elf walked further into the bowels of the Ministry. This far inside the building, there were no windows, the light source unknown. Hermione was sure that there were very complicated charms lighting the halls. She resolved to ask Master Juglenot about the charms when she returned to her studies in a week. It was fascinating. Her attention was drawn back to Ginny as she replied to Hermione's earlier question.  
  
"Not in the main halls of the Ministry. We were in Dad's office for his induction ceremony, but the way to his office is really different. Percy works somewhere here, but for the most part civilians aren't allowed here. Isn't it exciting? Most people never get a chance to see this. The other trials were held in that public hall where they gave the honors. Did you go to any of them?"  
  
Hermione shook her head. By the time the first trials had come up she had been exhausted. The culmination of years of following after Harry, trying not to get killed and pass her Newts. She hadn't really needed to see the Death Eaters go to trial and judgment. She'd been there for the final Battle and had gone on vacation with her parents and then started her apprenticeship. She'd neither the time or inclination to follow the trials of Death Eaters.  
  
The elf abruptly stopped outside a door that looked exactly like the hundreds of other doors they had already passed. There were no markings on the outside to indicate anything. He opened the door for the two girls, "Please Miss and Miss, this is the room. Gret will wait here for you to be done." "Thank you Gret," replied Hermione as she and Ginny entered the room and the door shut behind them, sealing the room with a 'pop'. They were finally there. At the trial of Severus Snape. Hermione gave a slight shutter as she heard Ginny's barely concealed excited inhalation at the sight of the room.  
  
The room was cavernous. The table where the judges sat at the opposite end of the room. In the center sat a chair with a tall back, presumably for Snape. The chair was surrounded by a small walled partition that came up to the seat of it. One either side of the chair were podiums, for the opposing advocates. A little off to the side were a series of Pensieves. Hermione realized with a start that the Wizarding world had little use for a stenographer. They could use pensieves to record the proceedings. Along both sides, spanning the length of the room were two galleries for the observers. On either side of the door, next to the chair and behind each judge's chair were Aurors, silent and watchful. Passing through the door, Hermione heard more sneakoscopes and spells. She sensed them scan her and breathed a sigh of relief as she was allowed to enter the courtroom.   
  
Ginny waved to the far corner of the gallery and Hermione realized that there was someone else in the room besides the Aurors, her and Ginny. Seated so he full view of the judges and the defendant's chair was Colin Creevey. Of course, she thought, the Prophet covers the trials. It makes sense that someone would be covering the trials. Ginny jogged through the room and sat down next to Colin, giving him a quick hug.   
  
"Hi, I never thought I'd see you here. I've got a copy of your picture on my wall. Do you think I could get another with your autograph? It's so neat that someone I know has this poster that everyone has. But if you autographed it, mine would be really special." Ginny said in one, quick, excited breath.  
  
Hermione followed at a more sedate pace. As she neared Colin and Ginny, she looked around the room again. There was no one else in the room. Just her, Ginny, Colin and quite a few Aurors. Hermione gave a slight shutter and sat down on the opposite side of Colin. The view was perfect. From here she could see the chair perfectly.  
  
"What are you doing here Colin?" Hermione asked.  
  
"I've been covering the trials for the Prophet. I'm trying to move up from just taking photographs and I've been assigned this. It's really boring and my articles don't get much notice, but hopefully I'll be assigned to features soon. Anything to get out of this backwater assignment." Colin replied.  
  
Hermione frowned and then realized it had been months since she had even looked at any reports on the Death Eaters. If this hadn't been Snape, she would have been more than happy never to read about the trials again. "Have you been to a lot of these Colin?" Ginny asked.  
  
"About ten so far. Most of the trials have already taken place. These are just the leftovers. But I think it's my last one. My editor was talking about sending me to Egypt to cover the new tombs discovered there. I can't wait. And I'll be happy to send you an autographed copy tonight Ginny." Colin said with a smile to the younger girl. Ginny blushed and then gripped Colin's arms as a side door opened and the three Judges entered the room.  
  
Hermione, Ginny and Colin all stood as the Judges came behind their chairs. Ginny couldn't help her excited gasp as she recognized both her father and brother as two of the judges. Arthur Weasley looked over to the two girls in the gallery and gave them a wink and grin before sitting in the center seat, flanked by Percy and the other Minister. The trio of onlookers sat and waited for Arthur to speak.  
  
To Hermione's surprise, it was Percy who spoke first. "Pensieve placeious." He intoned. Hermione watched as pensieves flew off the table beside the judges and positioned themselves behind all the individuals in the courtroom. Once they were in position, he nodded at his father. Arthur cleared his throat and spoke for the first time. Despite the size of the room, his voice filled it.   
  
"If the Aurors would bring in the prisoner." Arthur began as he and the other judges sat back to wait for the arrival of Snape. Ginny took out her quill and parchment and began to take notes as well. Colin gave her a quick grin and raised his camera. "Say Ginny, after the trial, would you like to get a bite to eat at the Leaky Cauldron? I can show you some other pictures that I took of the Battle that never made the papers." Ginny blushed again, gave a quick nod and looked up as the Aurors led Snape up into the room.  
  
Hermione looked again at the retaining wall around the chair that Snape would be seated in and saw that there was a pathway even further into the depths of the Ministry. Right, she thought, they would have to be kept in a really secure place and it probably wouldn't do to have accused Death Eaters roaming the halls, even if they were accompanied by Aurors.  
  
Hermione gasped at the sight of her former teacher before she realized that the sound had permeated the entire room. Percy gave a quick glance her way and Hermione forced herself to stifle her reactions. Snape was manacled at the wrists, feet and waist. He walked with a little shuffle. Instead of the black robes she was accustomed to seeing him clad in, he wore a gray uniform. His long and frequently greasy hair had been shorn off, and his face skeletal. The most disturbing feature of this version of Snape were his eyes. Instead of the piercing looks and glares she was accustomed to, he stared blankly at the floor in front of him, never blinking, his expression unchanged from one of total blankness.  
  
The Aurors led Snape to the chair. As he was seating in the chair, the chains and manacles moved around him, securing him to the chair by the chest, arms and legs. His blank expression never faltered. Hermione looked away from Snape to the blank spaces beside him, wondering where the lawyers were.   
  
Frowning a bit, she heard Arthur begin. "Severus Snape, you have been charged with four counts of treason, conspiring with known Death Eaters, assisting Voldemort, bearing the Dark Mark, disobeying direct orders from the Order and twenty-five known uses of the Unforgivable Curses. I understand we have a plea in this matter?" Arthur said turning to his fellow judges.  
  
"Yes, Minister." Percy replied. "Guilty to all charges." Hermione looked to Percy in astonishment. Snape hadn't uttered a word and there was no one representing him. Looking to Snape again, she realized he hadn't changed position since being placed in the chair. Although she wasn't sure that she could, he seemed to be tied up really tightly. Colin snapped a few pictures, Ginny was writing furiously on her parchment and Hermione turned her attention once more to Percy who was continuing. "There has been a request to allow for some clemency."  
  
"Am I to understand that we have pensieves against Snape?" Asked the Minister to the other side of Arthur.   
  
"Yes," replied Percy. "There have been admitted pensieves by Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter, and Minerva McGonagall. All of these detail the crimes of the prisoner. But Headmaster Dumbledore did issue a request that the defendant, Severus Snape be allowed to live."  
  
Hermione started at the last statement. Percy had said that Snape wasn't facing the Dementor's Kiss. And frowned as she realized that Harry had known what was happening and said nothing to her.   
  
"Very well, in accordance to the laws of the Ministry, I sentence Severus Snape to life imprisonment in Azkaban. If the Aurors would transfer the prisoner to Azkaban. I'd like to thank my fellow Ministers for their council in this matter. Court is dismissed." Said Arthur as he and his fellow judges stood and exited the room. Colin and Ginny stood, Hermione following automatically as looked over to Snape in the center of the room. He had been placed in a standing position and the manacles had been moved to his body once again. The entire proceeding had taken less than thirty minutes. As the Aurors led him back down the stairs, Hermione hissed to both Ginny and Colin, "This was nothing but a Kangaroo Court." Ginny and Colin looked to Hermione in puzzlement. In her anger, Hermione had forgotten the excellent acoustics of the room. Unnoticed by everyone except for a pensieve or two, Severus Snape's eyes flickered to where Hermione stood, before his face once more drew into the unblinking stare he had held during the trial. In the company of the Aurors, he shuffled down the stairs and to his fate.  
*****  
TBC.... 


	5. Winter clarity

Disclaimers and warnings in Part One  
  
Fugue State 05  
*****  
  
The room seemed darker than before after the departure of Snape and the judges. Hermione stared into the space that Snape had vacated until the voices of Colin and Ginny brought her back.   
  
"That was so exciting! Did you know my Dad was going to be here? I didn't. He didn't say anything the other night when I asked him. And Percy too? He's so official looking. I guess we should stop teasing him now. He really does some important work."  
  
Colin laughed at Ginny's comments, put his hand on her arm and began to lead her from the room. "Coming Hermione? I'll treat you and Ginny to dinner at the Leaky Cauldron." Hermione shook her head again and followed the other two out the door, looking back into a room that was much more ominous than previously expected.   
  
The door closed behind the trio with a click that belittled its weight. Gret was waiting for them as they came out. With a slight bow and quick gesture they began to follow him back to the Hall of the Ministry. Unlike Hermione's previous experiences, the trip back seemed twice as long as before. She had once joked to Ron and Harry that time seemed to move differently when you were returning from a trip into the unknown. The journey there always seemed to take a very long time because you weren't sure where you were going, the landmarks were strange and unfamiliar and you were finding your way. The trip back was always shorter, less stressful and an easier ride. The opposite was true in this case. Everything about the hallways she had walked only a short time before were unfamiliar. They seemed narrower, more ominous and not even remotely interesting. They were closing in on her. Hermione quickened her pace to try and get out sooner, but found herself restrained by the fact that she had no idea where she was going. Poor Gret was running in order to try and keep up. Colin and Ginny were lagging behind while they continued to chat and Hermione felt sure that if they separated, she would spend her life trying to escape these walls.  
  
Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, they reached the entrance hall again. Gret popped out with a bow and a grin. Ginny and Colin continued to make their way to the exit. Hermione followed them feeling rather light headed. The trio made their way through the streets of Diagon Alley, heading directly to the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione quickly excused herself as they found a table and headed to the toilet, where she was promptly and violently ill. She rested her head against the cool wall of the stall for a minute, rinsed out her mouth, splashed some water on her face. Once done, she gave herself a quick look in the mirror. Her face was pale, her eyes bloodshot and her hair a bit wet from when she splashed her face. Thankful for the low light in the pub, and not really feeling up to doing anything about it, she returned to Colin and Ginny.  
  
Hermione stopped off at the bar and asked Tom for some water and joined the others at the table. She sat down and just listened to the two of them.  
  
"Colin, do you miss Hogwarts at all?"  
  
"Ginny, I'm doing what I want to do. Professor Dumbledore is going to let me sit for the NEWTS over the summer, or one at a time. I guess I'll get my certificate at some point, but really, this job with the Prophet is exactly what I want to do. It seemed silly to postpone it." Colin answered.  
  
"Well, I do miss you a bit."  
  
"What if I promise to write?"  
  
"Alright, Ginny giggled.  
  
Hermione had enough of the inane conversation that surrounded her. She took a drink of the pumpkin juice in front of her and interrupted the two. "Were we at the same thing today?"  
  
"What do you mean, Hermione?" Ginny asked, puzzled at the anger Hermione seemed to be displaying.  
  
"That trial was a farce."  
  
"It was fantastic, I got so much material. I'm sure to get the top grade."  
  
"Is that all you care about?"  
  
"It's why we went isn't it?"  
  
"It was horrible. They had decided already. Snape never had a chance."  
  
"A chance at what?" Colin asked.  
  
"At freedom."  
  
"They would never give him that. With all those charges against him?" Ginny stated.  
  
"And you aren't upset? He didn't have a lawyer. He never got the chance to speak in his own defense. He just sat there. The Ministry had already sentenced him. What sort of trial was that?" Hermione said.  
  
"Hermione," said Colin as he tried to placate her, "there were admitted Pensieves. They can't lie. Snape really couldn't say anything in the face of those. He's lucky they let him live."  
  
"Harry didn't even say anything. We were with him for days. He heard us arranging to see the trial. And he never said he was giving evidence against Snape."  
  
"In most of the trials, Harry has given some evidence. His link with Voldemort allowed him to see a great deal of the Death Eater activities. At least that's what he said when I interviewed him for my book." Colin said, proud of the fact that his book on the battle was one of the few that hadn't had a drop in sales. He was still getting fan mail for the book.   
  
"Well, none of the evidence was presented." Hermione continued.  
  
"It rarely is. Most of it is still classified. You can't have just anyone knowing all the details of the Order's activities." Colin replied. "Look, Harry's a hero, he and Dumbledore killed Voldemort. Besides, Harry can't keep interrupting his career to come and testify against the few remaining Death Eaters."  
  
"He still should have said something. We have the right to know." Hermione stated.  
  
"All we have to know is that Snape and the rest of those scum are never going to be set loose in proper society again." Colin said in return.  
  
"Hermione, Snape was a Death Eater. He has the mark. I wonder if he had it while he taught?" Ginny wondered. "If I could get information on that, I'd beat everyone."  
  
"The only way to get that information would be to ask Snape Ginny. And there's no way you'll be able to get to him." Colin replied.  
  
Hermione listened to that last bit and stared into the gloom of the pub, an idea forming in her head.  
****  
  
The next day, Percy made his way up the walkway to Hogwarts as he had after every Death Eater trial. Following behind him was a large chest. The snow covering the grounds was white and pure. Against the gray winter sky, the turrets and buttresses of Hogwarts stood in stark relief.   
  
Percy made his way up to the doors of Hogwarts and greeted Professor McGonagall at the door. She led him through the hallways, silent in the absence of the students, scheduled to return tomorrow from winter break. They made their way to the gargoyles guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's office and made their way into the office.   
  
Percy looked around the office, unchanged since he was a student. The office was filled with all sorts of objects and items that caught the eye. The visitor's eyes were constantly drawn to the objects that surrounded them. The effect was to remove one's attention from the man who sat at the desk, Albus Dumbledore: the man who had a hand in the destruction of two of the darkest wizards ever to walk the earth. The man sitting before Percy never displayed the power he held. Much the same as Harry Potter. Who would think that a Seeker on a Quidditch team was one of the most powerful wizards alive? Harry was much more interested in Quidditch, girls and having fun than capitalizing on his victory. Percy would never really understand Potter's lack of ambition. He intended to follow his father into the spot of Minister of Magic. To do so, he would need the support of the wizard before him. So Percy was here, instead of his assistant, as he had done one hundred times before. Because Professor Dumbledore had asked, and Dumbledore needed Percy's help in this. Help that Percy was sure would be appreciated in the future.   
  
And in the long run, no one ever defied Albus Dumbledore.  
  
Percy waited, standing in front of the Headmaster until he looked up and motioned Percy to a chair in front of him. Percy sat down, and set the trunk down at his side with a quick wave of his wand. He'd learnt from previous visits to wait until the Professor spoke.   
  
He waited in silence until Dumbledore spoke. "Did you bring the pensieves?"  
  
Percy nodded and opened the trunk. Nestled within the trunk were the pensieves from Severus Snape's trial. From the Aurors to the spectators, these pensieves had recorded everything in the trial, from all the points of view.   
  
Dumbledore summoned the trunk to his side and looked inside it. He glanced up at Percy and said, "there are two additional pensieves in this trunk Percy, would you care to explain?"  
  
Percy flinched and looked the Headmaster in the eyes. It would not do to show weakness in front of this man, and his father had given his permission. "My sister and Hermione were allowed to witness the trial."  
  
"Indeed?" Asked Dumbledore. "And why did this happen?"  
  
"Ginny was given an assignment by Professor Binns to write about the Professors and Staff at Hogwarts and their roles in the Final Battle. She needed information on Snape to make the report complete. Hermione volunteered to accompany her as my father and I didn't think Ginny should attend alone. They watched the trial. At the end they left." Percy responded, growing uneasy at the look in the Headmaster's eyes.  
  
"That was not my question Mr. Weasley. My question is, why was I not informed prior to the two young women attending this trial."  
  
"I, we, didn't think it was necessary. It was just for a school report. The information won't go anywhere."  
  
"That is your sister. And Miss Granger?"  
  
"What do you mean Sir?"  
  
With that, Dumbledore refused to answer. He drew Hermione's pensieve out of the case and activated it. Percy fought from squirming as the minutes ticked by as the Headmaster was absorbed in the pensieve. After what seemed to Percy to be an interminable amount of time, the Headmaster looked up and adjusted his glasses. "My apologies Percy. It seems we might have something to gain after all. When Miss Granger requests to visit Severus, I want you to allow it."  
  
"In Azkaban? No one ever visits the prisoners." Percy objected.  
  
"Find a way. If you don't mind, I would like to keep Miss Granger's pensieve for a while longer."  
  
"No, Professor. Of course, for as long as you need." Percy answered. Making a small notation in his head to mark that pensieve number 2134 was in the hands of Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. Strictly for accounting purposes only. Of course.   
  
"You may go now Mr. Weasley. Thank you."  
  
Percy rose to leave and brought the trunk to him. The trunk elevated and following behind him, he made his way to the exit of the office. Percy turned to the Headmaster just before he exited and asked "Headmaster, if I can be so brave as to inquire, what makes you sure that Hermione will ask to visit Snape?"  
  
"Because Percy, it is in her nature. We'll discuss the details after she makes her request. Good day Minister." With that, Percy left the office and the door shut behind him.  
  
Dumbledore watched the pensieve again, repeating again the sight of Snape glancing towards Hermione. "So, Severus. We must find out what you see. And Miss Granger will help us along the way." Once again he replayed the scene. "And beware of what you reveal Severus, for we will be watching. As we have for your life.  
  
With that, Albus Dumbledore shut the pensieve in a drawer in his desk, stood up from behind the desk and walked to the window to look out upon the snow covered grounds of Hogwarts.  
  
  
*****  
TBC...  
  
*****  
  
Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I feel like Sally Field going "you liked it, you really liked it!" But I'm not short, dark-haired or adenoidal, so I'll just have to keep grinning.  
  
Tegan! -Yes, I guess I can write something other than smut... it's just so hard to resist, I keep wanting to declare it a dream and have Severus and Hermione wake up happy and in bed together, but then I go nah and giggle. Your comments have been wonderful.  
  
Aine Deande, Darklady -thanks again, your comments were really appreciated, and the fact that you kept on reading. People who read more than one chapter. Yea!  
  
Veresna Ussep - well... hey, if there is smut in this little one, I'll dedicate it to you. (Keeper of Snape's fascination with...)  
  
Rosmerta -Winner of the best line, 'Poor Sev, Azkabandoned' I was tempted to turn it into a comedy just for that.   
  
  
Jeesh, I'm amazed at the response. Thanks 


	6. Ecstasy

See Disclaimer and warnings in part one  
  
Fugue State 06  
*******  
By the time Hermione made her leave of Colin and Ginny, the two had set a date to meet in at The Three Broomsticks during Ginny's next Hogsmeade weekend. Exiting the pub, she made her way onto the streets of Muggle London. After seven years at Hogwarts and now her studies with Master Juglenot, she felt like a visitor here.   
  
After the events of the day, she wasn't sure that she was at home in the Wizarding world either. No one at the trial had acted as though anything was amiss. Perhaps it was she. She had been mocked for her crusade for the rights of the kitchen elves at Hogwarts. There were times when the values and sensibilities that her parents had instilled upon her seemed in direct contradiction to the realities of the Wizarding world. She was never sure if this was solely her problem. She had never had the chance to ask Seamus about his upbringing, and now it was too late. But he had been raised with a foot in both worlds, so his perspective although interesting, would still be with a focus towards the Wizarding way of life. She had never been close with the other muggle-born students, and even Harry, as result of his upbringing, had been so grateful to escape his Aunt and Uncle, he'd never questioned anything. Both Harry and Colin had embraced the Wizarding world and had never looked back. They were fully accepting of the things that went on. So what was her place? Was it even hers to question the trial.   
  
Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall had both given testimony, as well as Harry. As close as she was to Harry, there were things that he had never shared with either Ron or her. Perhaps it wasn't her place to question the actions of others. She had ignored the trials of the other Death Eaters, and she had never been in direct contact with Professor Snape during the war, nor had she known what he was doing. His actions had only been privy to a few select people. Who was she to question their actions? One of the things she had taken away from Hogwarts was that she didn't know everything. In all honesty, since leaving school, she'd never felt so insecure and out of place.  
  
Hermione walked down the darkening streets of London on the way to her residence at the College, as the street lamps came on and the shadows lengthened, her posture became straighter and she walked with a greater sense of purpose. She was who she had always been, Hermione Granger. She'd never let the opinions of others stop her before, why should she now? The past years might have tempered her actions, but never her mind, what had happened to Snape rankled her. His silence and demeanor frightened her, what had happened to him to change him so? Why was the man who had terrorized students for years expunged from every record and thrown into the bowels of Azkaban?   
  
She reached her door and made her way up the floors to her flat, greeting Crookshanks and hanging up her cloak. Like herself, the flat as an amalgamation of the Wizard and Muggle world. Amidst the pictures of her family and friends, were the Wizarding pictures moving in and out of frame, waving and smiling at her as they passed. In her bookshelves were her favorite books from childhood to her texts from Hogwarts. She made herself a cup of tea and settled down on the couch with her cat at her side. Picking up the Charms work she had ignored over the holidays she was deep into the chapter on lasting Charms for Defensive Purposes when a thought struck her. Putting her text down, she drew out her wand, gave it a wave, and with a quick "Accio Hogwarts: A History," the tome flew into her hand.  
  
Perhaps the question wasn't whether Snape was guilty, he obviously had the Dark Mark, but rather why nothing existed or was written about him in the History, unlike every other Hogwarts teacher that had served before him or since. The question was, Hermione thought long into the night as she read, not what Snape had done to deserve Azkaban, but who Snape was. Maybe it was there she'd find some answers.  
  
And some peace.  
  
Two weeks later Hermione was willing to admit defeat. First Master Juglenot had been very disappointed at her lack of progress over the holiday break. Hermione felt the break had been deserved. She had spent the last seven years of her life studying on every free moment. Every other second had been filled with fighting Voldemort, ferreting out plots at the school and doing battle with the forces of evil. She had needed the break. After one particularly bad session, she had broken down. To her surprise Juglenot had laughed. Since then the tutoring sessions had been of a lighter nature and Hermione was thankful. For once she could go to sleep at a reasonable hour. The History hadn't revealed anything of note about Snape. Somehow Hermione had hoped that Ginny had been in error, but she hadn't. Snape was nowhere to be found. She had written to both Ginny and Harry for some information. Ginny to ask if she could see Ginny's paper after it was done. Hermione hoped that even if Ginny hadn't found anything new, perhaps Binns, in his comments had revealed something.  
  
Harry was proving more difficult to get in touch with. Her first letter had been returned by an owl carrying a letter. A form letter that thanked her for writing to Harry Potter, offering her a membership in the 'Harry Potter Fan Club', one year subscription for only one Galleon, and a Harry Potter playing card that swooped up and down, forever catching the snitch. The second letter had contained a missive thanking her for her continued interest in Harry Potter and a note signed personally by Harry himself. In increasing frustration, she'd sent notes and floo'ed both Molly Weasley and Sirius for help, only to be told that the Quidditch team was in retreat preparing for the next World Cup round. They'd promised to help her in contacting Harry, but she'd only have to wait.  
  
So she had. She was going out tonight with the other students in the Masters program. Tomorrow she planned to go to the main Library in Hogsmeade, meet up with Ginny and see if there were any reasons about the strange removal of Severus Snape and his life. Perhaps Ginny might also have some answers, sometimes things were obvious to Wizard born people than to her. There were still times that the obvious to them took her by surprise.  
*****  
  
The Dementors were making their nightly rounds among the denizens of Azkaban. From the hospital wing to the lower cells they traveled along the corridors of the prison for their daily feeding. Moving down deeper into the prison, they left in their wake trembling, screaming and sobbing prisoners. It was a rare occasion that they failed to make a person weep. The only one in recent memory, that had not reacted to the Dementors was this one, in the lowest point of the island. So far down, that the cells were beneath the surface of the water of the island. The effect of these cells was an odd sense of disorientation unique to this potion of Azkaban. The air was artificial, the sounds muffled and the time seemed stagnant. It was here the prisoners knew the full scope of their incarceration. They were entombed within bubbles of air, existing only on the whims of a society that had condemned them. They were the forgotten ones. They remained in their cells, allowed nothing. Their hair was kept shorn, lest they use it to hang themselves. For this reason as well, they were not allowed any coverings. Four hundred and twenty-three years ago a prisoner in these cells had used his robes to hang himself. Since then, these prisoners were allowed nothing. Their cells were as bare as their bodies. They were removed once a week by the Dementors to allow for the cells to be cleaned of the waste the prisoners produced, as well as allowing for the upkeep of their hair and bodies. Due to the nature of the cells, these prisoners needed to be hosed down weekly, for if the chore was not done, the stench overpowered even the Dementors. They were removed in sequence, never seeing anyone else except their keepers. At all times the Dementors feasted upon these ones, as they were more readily available to them than all the others. The prisoner in the last cell, puzzled the Dementors. They were unable to feed upon him. He sat unmoving, as he had lain upon the bed in hospital, never reacting. The Dementors tried again and again to draw this one out, yet they had never succeeded.   
  
It was with resignation that the Dementor approached this last remaining cell. This one had never released anything. It approached the door and swept into the cell, swooping down upon the lank, dirty object on the floor. As it neared, a low keening noise was heard. As the Dementor neared, the sound became a wail, which rose to a scream, a howl from a voice not heard in a year. The throat and vocal cords tearing themselves with the force and the sudden use. The Dementor released cries of ecstasy which drew others. Soon the cell was crowded with Dementors as the man howled and writhed beneath them. He was soon coated in bile, blood, urine and feces as his body voided itself and the Dementors flew in and out of his cell, calling to one another as the last man was drained. After an interminable number of minutes had passed the man passed out in a pool of his own fluids. The Dementors left the cell, fully fed at last.  
*****  
TBC... 


	7. Past, present, future

See disclaimers and warnings in part one.  
  
Fugue State (Part Seven)  
*******  
  
History. One learns from the lessons taught by the mistakes of the past.   
The prejudice, the hatred, and the wars. War is the great equalizer,   
everyone is at risk. People die on either side and always the innocents   
who are lost, to the horrors and the randomness of it all, are mourned.   
It is, however, worth it. To the victor go the spoils.   
  
History is written by the victorious. How the war was fought, who are   
the heroes, the villains and why the war was fought. The origins of the   
conflict are defined by those that win. They, alone, decide how the   
ignorant view the war. What the future generations see and learn from   
the outcome of the war. It is their prerogative, their right and   
ultimately their final victory. The means used to achieve their goals   
are softened, justified and explained in the simplest terms.   
  
War is not for the faint of heart. It is a vile business, but necessary.   
It restores a balance to society, allows it to focus on something and   
someone that is truly evil. Both sides dehumanize the other, allowing   
their soldiers to kill without remorse, without shame. There is a goal   
and it will be achieved, no matter the cost, the loss of life or the   
deceits that are necessary. No one will ever truly know the final cost   
to the populace. They believe what they are taught, by parents, teachers   
and books.   
  
There is no objectivity in a war. You are on one side or another.   
Spectators are often the first to be killed, as they foolishly remain   
neutral, to see whom to fall in with. In the end, everyone must choose,   
right or wrong, but it is often too late to see the choice that must be   
made.  
  
Children are the most malleable. They are born ignorant, unaware that   
they are pawns to either side. The children that grew up to follow the   
side of the Light were taught that Voldemort was evil. His name was   
never spoken, leading to a fear of the unknown. This unnamed thing that   
would destroy everything in his path as a means to rule. The children   
who grew up in the homes of those that supported Voldemort were taught   
the purity of the cause. How their society was tainted by the influence   
of the Muggle world. They were taught to hate those that were not raised   
in proper society. But in the beginning, at their birth, all the   
children were equal, they were taught to hate in different ways, by the   
very people they trusted and loved the most. The prejudice of the past   
became the facts of the present and the history of tomorrow. Through it   
all, children are the noblest sacrifice either side can make, for it is   
the children who become the martyrs to the cause of the right and just.   
It is in the name of justice that wars come to be, why they are fought,   
and those that win teach the children, to read, to love and in the end,   
who to hate.  
  
Education is the great equalizer in society. If one can read,   
understand, digest the information contained within, they have power.   
Words that slowly make sense as their parents read to them perched on a   
knee at bedtime become power. A tome that is forbidden to them as a   
child, is a magnet to a curious child. It is what they are not meant to   
know, but are drawn towards. Children who seek such knowledge are the   
most dangerous as they learn what they shouldn't. Facts, events and   
deeds that are beyond them. Children learn before they understand. They   
only understand that knowledge, even that forbidden to them, is power.   
It gives them an entrance into the world of adults. To a place where   
people will take them seriously. The precocious child is adored and   
praised in their quest for knowledge, in their desire to learn.  
  
Children are our future, they must be protected from the evil that   
resides in our midst.  
  
********  
  
Hermione apparated from her flat to Diagon Alley prior to her meeting   
with Ginny on her Hogsmeade weekend. She planned to meet up with Ginny   
at the Three Broomsticks for lunch, but wanted to look through some of   
the books at Flourishes and Blotts prior to that. She was looking for   
any reason as to why Snape had been excluded from the History. Also, she   
wanted to get some books on Wizarding Law and trials. She was still   
astounded by the treatment of Snape at the Ministry, and wondered if   
that had been the norm. Neither of her companions had seemed upset at   
the proceedings, but she'd always believed that the Wizarding World was   
just. It was one of the things that had first drawn her in, after the   
initial pleasure of discovering that she had been a witch. The world she   
had entered, while part of England, had been pure. Magic was a natural   
part of the world. Magical England was a part of the elements. It spoke   
to the ground, to the stones and to the air. Much more than the cars,   
buildings and way of life that she had grown up with. Her time at   
Hogwarts and her life afterwards felt natural. How the world was   
supposed to be. Voldemort and his followers were a blight upon that   
world and had deserved their fate.   
  
If Snape deserved his fate, why had it been expunged from history?   
Surely future Slytherins and other students deserved to know their fate   
if they considered falling in league with dark wizards that might   
appear. Snape would serve as a warning, that no matter their actions, a   
person would always be accountable to their past actions. Every action   
had a consequence. The morality of the world would be maintained. The   
only way to do that would be to learn from the mistakes of others. Snape   
had obviously made grievous mistakes that resulted in his fate. He had   
betrayed the Order, disobeyed Professor Dumbledore in a way that had   
resulted in testimony from the Headmaster, Harry and McGonagall.   
Obviously, he had sinned. But why, thought Hermione, had he been erased   
from memory?  
  
Browsing through the shelves, hours later, Hermione was willing to admit   
defeat. She had found books on the law, on trials, but nothing on why   
Snape wasn't in the Hogwarts history. Nothing. Glancing to the clock on   
the wall, and starting when the hands pointed to half-past lunch, she   
took her purchases to the desk. Passing the remainder bins, a book of   
the final battle caught her eye, the only one that focused on the   
participants of the Battle and not he conflict itself. Written by Rita   
Skeeter; The Final Battle: Heroes and the Damned, called to her. Based   
on her past experience with the hack, Skeeter had most likely focused on   
the people in the Battle and not the fight itself. She had covered the   
Death Eater trials twenty years prior to the Final Battle, and perhaps   
once Hermione waded through the tripe that Skeeter inevitably would have   
written, the truth could be found. Between this book and the ones that   
covered the law, Hermione was certain that some sense could be made of   
the things that had so confused her. Knowledge was power, and the words   
within the books held in her hands contained the information she needed.  
  
They always had in the past.  
  
Paying for the books, she gave a glance to the other books nestled in   
the bin where she had found the Skeeter book, and shuttered. Hermione   
did not need any reminders of the Battle, she had been there, and   
watching as classmates fell on both sides and the blood flowed. The   
ground had been soaked, worked to mud, not with rain, but with the   
fluids that spilled from the fallen. Her feet had slipped and she'd   
fallen to the ground, rising soaked to the core with the dark, sticky   
and rancid mud that marked the death of the combatants. She still woke   
in the night, trembling and screaming, the smell coating her nostrils   
and making her retch. Nights like that made her believe that she would   
never get clean, no matter that she scrubbed her body until she was red,   
submerged in a scalding bath, futilely trying to remove the stains that   
had been on her body and remained, etched into her flesh.   
  
Walking quickly out the door and into Diagon Alley proper, she sought   
the warmth of the sun, shivering at the thoughts and memories   
surrounding her. Gathering herself she apparated to her meeting with   
Ginny, clutching her purchases to her chest as a child would do to a   
security blanket.  
  
********  
  
In the depths of Azkaban, the Dementors were confused. The prisoner,   
once again, escaped their attentions. He sat stoically as they swarmed   
his cell. He walked unresistingly in between them as they led him to be   
cleaned. His eyes, blank and unresponsive, never moved. He hardly   
blinked. Once again, they were forced to feed him with assistance. He   
would not be allowed to die. Life imprisonment in Azkaban meant just   
that. Life. He would be forced to live.   
  
But this was not what worried the Dementors so. Unlike the others within   
the walls, who screamed at each and every pass of a Dementor, this one   
had no pattern. After the first feeding, the Dementors had eagerly   
approached his cell the next day, and had fed on nothing. No thoughts,   
no screams, the man was a void, an empty slate. The human watchers of   
the prison, safely ensconced miles from the prison were likewise   
puzzled. They had watched as the prisoner lay in bed, unmoving, as still   
as death. Only his shallow breathing attained to the life still within   
the body. One day his eyes had fluttered. Over the following month, they   
had opened during the day, he had eaten without assistance and allowed   
himself to be led and walked. His trial had gone as expected, and he had   
finally been placed in the cell he would remain in for the rest of his   
life.   
  
After a year, the watchers had become accustomed to the prisoner and his   
ability to resist the Dementors. But they hadn't seen. The man had   
nothing to give them. Everything that he had once been was gone. He had   
no place in the world, nothing that called to him. He had no idea who he   
was, and who he had been. The day after his trial, the Dementors made   
their customary pass, and he had screamed. For the day before, someone   
had seen him. Looked at him and had seen a person, and for the first   
time, the man mourned, for he had no idea who he was, what he had   
become, he had only seen the blackness of his walls and the knowledge   
that he would never again be seen. He was Severus Snape and trapped   
within a cell and a life over which he had no control and nothing to   
mourn, yet the woman had been saddened for him, angry on his behalf and   
had seen him. But here, in the bowels of Azkaban, he was nothing, yet   
someone, and that was dangerous. For it gave notice to the Dementors   
that he could be feed upon. It had been easier in the dark. Yet he was   
unable to return to it for any length of time, and for the first time in   
years he felt fear. For in this, he was truly alone, and very scared.  
  
He was nothing, yet someone. For the first time that he could remember   
he desired something. He wanted to be seen.  
  
That day, the one in which he had fed the Dementors, all took notice.   
Man, Dementors and watchers alike. The man because he realized that he   
might have had a life, he had been something to the woman in the   
courtroom. The Dementors because they had finally fed on the soul of the   
man, and that well had run deep. They had been unable to stop   
themselves. After being deprived for so long, they had feasted, and it   
was sweet.  
  
The watchers saw the actions in the cell and were interested. The   
prisoner had something the Dementors wanted. They wanted to know what it   
was. On the advice of their head, they placed surveillance threads in   
his cell. These allowed them to observe the prisoner from the safety of   
their world. They watched and waited for a sign from the prisoner. A   
clue as to what made him writhe under the spell of his jailers.   
  
Knowledge is power. Always.  
  
*******  
  
Albus Dumbledore sat in his office watching his children scatter to the   
winds. It was a beautiful day at Hogwarts as the elder ones headed off   
their first Hogsmeade weekend of the Spring term. Bobbing among them was   
Ginny Weasley, the youngest in a long line of redheads that had graced   
the halls of Hogwarts. He watched as she chatted with her friends along   
the path and to her luncheon with Hermione.  
  
And he smiled. Looking to the copies of the threads that graced the cell   
of Severus, he played again the scene of Severus reacting to the   
Dementors. Something had drawn the man to the conscious world. Someone,   
he corrected himself softly. He had to see where this path would take   
them. Where it would lead and if necessary, contain it. The world needed   
protection from certain things and for years, he, Albus Dumbledore had   
done so. He had rid the world of Grindelwald, sheltered Harry Potter   
until he was able to kill Voldemort and had for years ruled kindly over   
the halls of Hogwarts. The children were his life and everything in his   
power would be done to protect them.  
  
They were the future.  
  
And so he sat watching the Dementors swarm over Severus and to the   
current thread that showed the man, unresponsive again in his cell. He   
waited, for Miss Granger to realize that the knowledge she sought was   
contained not in the books she so treasured, but within the man in the   
depths of Azkaban. Albus needed the information and so he waited. For   
Hermione to ask the questions necessary to unlock the secrets so long   
kept hidden.   
  
Albus Dumbledore was a patient man, he would wait for the questions, for   
he needed the answers.  
  
For the children. His children. Those past, present and future.  
  
He would protect them all.  
  
******  
TBCÉ. 


	8. Eating and correspondence

See Disclaimers and warnings in Part One  
  
Fugue State (Part Eight)  
  
*******  
Ginny and Colin sat in the Three Broomsticks, they were having some shepherds pie   
and butterbeer when Hermione rushed in, laden with books. Ginny smiled,   
apparently Hermione was still the bookworm, no matter how hard she had protested   
during the Winter Break. Ginny gave a quick wave, Hermione smiled and made her   
way through the throngs of Hogwarts students to their table.   
  
"I'm afraid we couldn't wait, Hermione" said Ginny.  
  
Hermione dropped her books on the floor beside her and sat, still a bit out of   
breath. "Well, the least I can do is pick up the next round, butterbeers all around then?"  
  
Ginny and Colin nodded as Hermione got up and went to the bar, ordering their   
drinks and something to eat as well. She returned to the table, sat down and gave her table mates a quick smile.  
  
"Sorry, I got caught up in Flourishes and Blotts and lost track of the time."  
  
"When have I heard that before," said Ginny with a laugh and a grin.  
  
Hermione smiled back, snatched a piece of bread from the basket on the table,   
leaned back in her chair and relaxed.  
  
"So, what have you two been up to," she asked with a grin. Hermione smiled   
around her bite of bread as both Colin and Ginny blushed at her remark.  
  
Ginny, her face as red as her hair, asked "you don't want details do you?"  
  
Hermione laughed and looked to the two. Colin was studiously studying his dregs   
of his meal and Ginny laughed along with Hermione. Rosmerta soon brought the butterbeer and Hermione's lunch and they all drank and ate.  
  
"Oh! Take a look. I brought my paper like you asked, Hermione. I got top marks,"   
said Ginny as she dug into her satchel for the parchment. Handing it to Hermione, she continued, "Binns said he'd never read such a detailed account of the final Battle. It was the trial that put me over the edge you know, no one else had that."  
  
Hermione ate and tried to ignore the parchment that Ginny handed to her. "Would   
you mind if I took it for awhile to read? I'll get it back to you as soon as   
possible."  
  
"Not a problem, Hermione, I made you a copy as well as the one I sent to my parents. Do you know, they think I might come close or beat Percy on his NEWTS? That would be fantastic, if only to put him in his place. I think he still thinks of me as this little sister that followed everyone around."  
  
Hermione smiled, refraining from stating the obvious, Ginny would be the little sister, even when she was married and had numerous children. To her older brothers, she would always be the baby of the family. Looking to her and Colin over the table, she envied them, their closeness. Not for the first time, she wondered if her dedication to her studies was a detriment to finding a boyfriend. It would be nice to have someone to talk to at the end of the day, go to dinner with, hold hands under the table as Ginny and Colin were doing this instant. She gave herself a mental shake and returned to the present. Wishing never brought one anything.  
  
The lunch came to a close and Colin and Ginny headed out together. Hermione stayed behind a few minutes, sipping her drink and nibbling on the remains of the bread. Finally, even she left, slipping out of the pub, books and parchment in hand to read and learn from. The answers were always there, one just had to know where to find them.  
  
*******  
  
One week later, Hermione was ready to throw the books in the rubbish bin. After pouring over the law and history texts, she knew more about the Wizarding judicial system and procedures than everyone save a few very pedantic types. Of this she was positive. The most discouraging fact was, Professor Snape's trial was legal. It was perfectly acceptable for evidence to be given by pensieve. A tribunal of three Ministers was the accepted method of presiding over a trial, and, Hermione thought in defeat, nothing that had happened to Snape was out of the ordinary. The text was filled with accounts of similar trials. In this instant, she felt the Muggle world was more advanced than the Wizarding world. Yet she couldn't discount the facts. In the Wizarding world, the rate of repeat offenders was nil. People simple did not break the laws more than once. That was enough, thought Hermione, as one offense was often enough to throw the criminal in Azkaban. Azkaban would be enough to deter anyone from breaking the law.  
  
Snape had been found guilty in a fair trial. The only question remaining was an account of his life and career. Which, according to Hogwarts: A History, was nothing. Snape was simply not there. She'd first thought that it was simply a case of Snape having been too new a teacher. After all, the History covered over a thousand years of Hogwarts' past, perhaps Snape was too current to be listed. This assumption had been quickly squashed as she read the latest pages and noted the additions of Lockhart, Lupin, McGonagall and Moody to the list of teachers. Through it all, potions were listed as being under the guidance of Dumbledore. Snape was absent from all of it. With a reluctant sigh, she reached for the one book she had tried to avoid. Rita Skeeter's account of the combatants of the War. It seemed she would never be free of that meddlesome hack. She sat back on the couch, drank her tea and began to read over the oftentimes lurid and overblown prose, hoping that somewhere within the pages the information she sought lay within.  
  
Two days later, Hermione was ready to pull her hair out in frustration. Skeeter had very carefully divided the book into two sections, "Us and Them." Us consisted of the usual people, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Harry, the Weasleys and her. To her surprise, she had rated an entire chapter. Of course, she had been listed as "the girl who had once bewitched Harry Potter," and there were very unflattering remarks made about her hair. The Them section had consisted of the Death Eaters and Voldemort. Skeeter had, unsurprisingly, listed as many Death Eaters by name as she could find. The Malfoys, Goyles, Lestranges, and even her one time paramour, Victor was there. There was the inevitable footnote linking her name to Krum's with the remarks that it was over this man that she had broken Harry Potter's heart. There were no surprises in this. Once again, however, Snape was not listed. Neither side had any record of Snape's participation in the Battle or the war with Voldemort. He had been there, Hermione assured herself. She had seen him, fighting alongside Harry and Dumbledore. She thought she witnessed the three of them battling Voldemort, but only Harry and Dumbledore had walked out of the ashes. She sighed, only those two and Snape held the answers she sought.  
  
Three days later, she finally heard from Harry. It had taken owls to Molly Weasley and Sirius, but Harry had finally written to her. Unfortunately, his entire letter consisted of the preparations he was undertaking for the match against the Americans and the physical attributes of the American seeker. Repeatedly. Hermione shook her head, and wrote to Harry once again, asking him for information about Snape and the final Battle. She closed the letter with a question asking if Harry could supply her with any details of testimony against Snape. That and an invitation for a butterbeer the next time he was available. Sending Hedwig off with a pat and a nibble off her biscuit, she composed her next letter to Headmaster Dumbledore, asking permission to meet with him about Snape and his fate. Perhaps she would also be able to look through the library at Hogwarts, surely the annuals would have something of Snape. Dropping by the Leaky Cauldron on her way to lessons with Master Juglenot, she sent the post owl on its way, hoping to hear from the Headmaster soon. She hated not knowing.   
*******  
  
Albus was fascinated by the images before him. Once again, Severus was moving within his cell. He sat, looking blankly at the wall, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings. His hand would brush in the air, brushing away imaginary strands of hair. He would then move his hands before him, moving them in complicated motions. It had taken Albus a few viewings before he realized that Severus was making potions. Moving to his side, Severus added invisible ingredients, stirred them into a cauldron only he could see and waited for the potion to brew. After a certain time had passed, Severus would extinguish the invisible flame and decant the potion. Each potion was different. Severus would do this for hours. Yet he would also lapse into the catatonia that marked much of his stay in Azkaban. Surprisingly, it was only during the times of catatonia that the Dementors had any effect on the man. It was still fairly sporadic, but Severus did react to the passes the Dementors made through his cell. Albus gave a quick grin, walked to the fireplace threw in some floo powder and contacted Percy.  
  
As was his wont, Percy answered immediately.   
  
"Headmaster, I hadn't expected to hear from you so soon, is there something wrong?"  
  
"Not at all Percy," Albus replied, "I only wanted to ask you if you had viewed the latest threads from Azkaban."  
  
"Well, I haven't seen them yet," answered Percy. "I do apologize for this lapse, Headmaster, I had planned to view them this evening but it has been an extremely busy week. There was a minor problem with the Malfoy estate that needed to be sorted as well as the reparations requests and the threads, unfortunately, had to be put off. Is there something amiss with them?"  
  
"Not at all Percy, I have a request of you, if you please."  
  
"Certainly, Headmaster," replied Percy, straightening in his chair, even though the Headmaster couldn't see the movement. Although not commonly acknowledged outside the Ministry, Headmaster Dumbledore held a great deal of power. Next to his father, the Headmaster was most likely the most powerful wizard in England. It simply wouldn't do for Percy to ignore any request the Headmaster made of him. The better he could fulfill the requests, the greater esteem the Headmaster would hold of him. And that was simply the best thing Percy could do. To have the backing of the Headmaster would assure Percy a long and powerful career in the Ministry, and Percy had no intentions of letting an opportunity pass him by.  
  
"I would like for you to arrange a visit for me out to Watcher's isle."  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Percy," Albus replied with an indulgent smile, "I would like for you to arrange a meeting for me with Severus."  
  
"Of course, Headmaster," said Percy, already going over the complicated arrangements in his head. The watchers would have to be contacted, transport arranged, the room to be prepared, Snape would have to be washed. It would not do for the Headmaster to have to smell Snape in his current condition.   
  
"Have I ever congratulated you on the fine implementation of the watcher program at Azkaban, Percy?"  
  
"Thank you Headmaster." The watchers had been one of Percy's first actions as Head of the Department of Magical Enforcement. Never again would the Dementors be allowed to run free on Azkaban. His strongest Aurors were dispatched to rein in the Dementors. They presided over Azkaban from an island a safe distance away from the prison. Wards had been placed to prevent flying in. Apparition bans were strictly enforced as well as barriers to prevent all unauthorized entry into the area. It had placated the public that feared a repeat of one of Voldemort's greatest victories in the war, the release of the prisoners and Dementors upon the general public. With the controls Percy had established, that travesty would never again occur.  
  
"When would you like to visit the isle?" asked Percy.  
  
"Tomorrow if that would be convenient for you."  
  
"Of course, Headmaster," said Percy, pushing aside all previous plans for his evening. He would have to contact the watchers, view the threads and meet the Headmaster to personally escort him over. Percy gave a quick sigh at the amount of work ahead of him this evening, yet could not help the thrill that coursed through him at the Headmaster's request.  
  
"Would tomorrow at nine be acceptable for you Headmaster?"  
  
"Ideal Percy, I'll meet you at the coast then. See you there Minister, and thank you for your assistance." Albus replied. "Good night Percy."  
  
"To you as well Headmaster, I look forward to seeing you in the morn."  
  
Albus closed the connection and left his office. It was dinnertime and the elves were serving one of his favorite meals, roast beef.  
  
The next morning found Albus reading with amusement the owl from Hermione. He chuckled and sent an owl to Harry requesting a meeting for the next day. On his way out the gates of Hogwarts, he stopped by to see Minerva, asking her to join them in his office tomorrow. That task settled, Albus apparated to the shore. As expected, Percy was waiting for him. Together, the two men set out in the boat to Watcher's Isle.   
  
Once there, Percy led the Headmaster into the interrogation room. A windowless, unadorned room with a table and two chairs on opposite sides of the table were the only objects in the room. The room itself was heavily warded and protected in addition to the wards around the island.   
  
Albus sat himself in a chair and waited. Sooner than he thought, Severus was led into the room. Two Aurors led the man in and seated him across the table from Albus. As at the trial, the moment Severus was seated, restraints came around his body, binding him at the feet, hands and chest. Once Severus was properly restrained, the Aurors dipped their heads to the Headmaster and exited the room, leaving the two men alone.   
  
Albus looked at the man before him. Severus was rail thin. His bones prominent in his face and fingers. His eyes looked down, his face unmoving. The gray uniform hung on his frame, and as Albus looked over his form, he could make out the slight dusting of the disinfectant that had been used to clean Severus.   
  
"Severus," Albus said, waiting for a reaction from the other man. Albus was still, seeing how long it would take Severus to react to hearing his name. Perhaps two hours had passed before Albus noticed a fluttering of Severus' eyes. His head snapped up and for the first time since being led into the room, Severus looked at Albus. His face still blank, his obsidian eyes stared at Albus, who was unsure if Severus was actually seeing him.  
  
"Severus," repeated Albus.  
  
He was rewarded with a quick blink of the eyes before him. With a smile and a twinkle in his eyes, Albus reached into his robes and drew out a small tin. Opening it, he extended his hand to Severus.  
  
"Lemon Sherbet?"  
*******  
TBC... 


	9. Tea Time

See disclaimers and warnings in part one.  
  
Fugue State (part nine)  
*******  
  
Within the Isle of Watchers, Percy Weasley studied the scene before him.   
Watching from a room adjacent to the interview room, behind a reflective   
wall, the watchers would see everything. They recorded all conversations   
on pensieves. With a quick swish of his wand, Percy deactivated the   
pensieves. This was a private conversation, and surely the Headmaster   
would not appreciate the recording. It was a given, however, that the   
conversation would be witnessed. Even the Headmaster could not expect   
complete privacy while in conference with the prisoner. It was, of   
course, for the protection of the Headmaster. Snape might be restrained,   
but he was still a powerful Wizard and he might be able to attack   
Professor Dumbledore. Percy stood, wand in hand, at the ready to jump in   
at the moment the Headmaster appeared to be in danger from the prisoner.   
Snape and Dumbledore sat on opposite sides of the table, one bound, and   
the other with hand outstretched with an offering of sweets. Percy   
turned to the Auror beside him.  
  
"In the future, Erik, do make sure the visitors are searched for   
contraband prior to seeing the prisoners."  
  
Erik nodded, but asked of the Minister, "Does this mean that there will   
be a schedule set up for visitation sir?"  
  
"No, but this one may be receiving some additional guests. With the   
exception of the Headmaster and approved others, they are to be searched   
prior to entry on the isle. Anything they are carrying must be held,   
including wands."  
  
"Is that, I mean, do we have the right to ask for a wizard's wand, sir?"  
  
"Better people are inconvenienced a bit, then we allow for the   
possibility that they might aid in the escape of the prisoners." Percy   
stated with all the authority of his position. "These are the greatest   
risks to our safety and peace. The world must be kept safe from these   
miscreants." Percy replied, returning to the scene before him.  
  
The Headmaster sat, still as stone, his arm outstretched before Snape,   
offering the candy. Snape stared directly into the Headmaster's eyes,   
the irony being, that with his hands bound, there was no way for him   
accept the sweets offered to him.  
  
Percy stood before the scene, waiting for one or the other to make the   
first move. Finally, the Headmaster put the tin down and began to speak.  
  
"So, Severus," said Albus as he leaned back into his chair, putting the   
tin beside him on the table, "you are looking as well as can be   
expected."  
  
Severus remained stoic, the only sign that he was listening to the   
Headmaster was the almost imperceptible twitch in his jaw, visible only   
due to his emaciated features. Had there been an ounce of fat anywhere   
on him, the movements would not be visible. His eyes blinked once more   
as he continued to stare at the Headmaster.  
  
"I do hope you are well."  
  
At this comment, Snape's eyes closed, the only sign he was still hearing   
the words the Headmaster spoke was the continued twitching of his jaw.  
  
"Understand this Severus, where you are now was ordained long ago. Any   
and all actions undertaken by you, in no way negated your fate. You once   
understood this. I do hope that you harbor no ill will towards myself. I   
do, after all, have only your best interests at heart."  
  
Percy leaned closer to the glass, anxious that he not miss a word the   
Headmaster spoke. This was Snape. The traitor. The orders Percy had   
followed in sentencing him had come from the highest reaches of the   
Ministry, and Snape had, in the greater scheme of things, been shown a   
great deal of mercy considering the extent of his crimes.  
  
"I do have some pleasant news for you, Severus," continued Albus,   
opening the tin and popping a lemon sherbet in his mouth. "I believe you   
will be seeing another guest in the near future. Do you remember Miss   
Granger? There is some information she seeks of you. Shall I allow her   
to visit you?"  
  
Still, Snape's eyes remained closed, his mouth did part and within the   
quiet of the room, the harsh sound of his breathing permeated the room.   
It broke the silence that remained in the wake of the Headmaster's   
words.  
  
"I do believe I can trust you Severus. You have kept our secrets so well   
over the years. A few visits from a former student should not alter your   
path. You have been a faithful servant over the years and I expect you   
to continue to do so." At the conclusion of these words, Albus rose from   
his chair, circled around the table to stand next to Snape.  
  
Percy and Erik tensed in the room. With a slight nod to the Auror, both   
he and Percy held their wands at the ready, ready to protect the   
Headmaster from the prisoner.  
  
Albus crouched down next to Snape, laying a hand on Severus' bound arm.   
His mouth next to Severus' ear, he spoke once again. "Remember, Severus"   
Albus leaned closer to Snape, speaking directly in his ear.  
  
Percy almost groaned aloud in frustration. The Headmaster's voice had   
dropped so low, the rest of the Headmaster's statement lost to the   
watchers. Percy fought to remain impassive. It would not do for an   
underling to witness his frustration at the turn the conversation had   
taken. Obviously the trust he had established with the Headmaster would   
allow him to get the remainder of the conversation in private. He and   
the Headmaster met once a week. He was in Albus' confidence. The   
information would come to him soon enough. There were secrets that must   
be held only by a select few. The man beside him did not qualify, he was   
only a gloried guard for a prison. He, Percy Weasley, was a Minister and   
candidate for the next Minister of Magic. He would learn from the great   
men around him, his father and the Headmaster and be the greatest   
Minister ever.  
  
Albus stood up from Snape's side, brushed a hand over the shorn head and   
walked to the door, picking up the tin of sweets along his way. He gave   
a sharp knock to the door, and Percy hurried to let the Headmaster out   
of the room. Snape had begun to rock back and forth against the bonds,   
his breathing increasing with each second. Dumbledore gave Percy a quick   
nod and the two headed for the exit and passage off the island.  
  
Waiting a discreet amount of time and assuring himself that the Minister   
and the Headmaster were safely off the island, Erik summoned two   
additional Aurors and the trio headed into the room to return the   
prisoner to his cell. As they entered the room, the Aurors noticed the   
agitation of the prisoner. He was breathing quickly and the tendons in   
his neck were strained as he tested the bonds. His hands clenched   
against arms of his chair and he rocked back and forth. His eyes   
remained closed, but the Aurors could see Snape's teeth were clenched as   
he tested the limits of his restraints. With a glance to his co-workers,   
Erik cast a quick Petrifius Totalus, immobilizing the prisoner. Undoing   
the bonds, and with a Mobilicorpus the trio began the trip over to   
Azkaban.   
  
The logistics of transporting the prisoners back and forth were, by   
necessity, complicated. Once the prisoner was immobilized, they were   
escorted to a boat which, propelled by magic, quickly sped over to   
Azkaban. The wards between the two islands, were the results of years of   
study from the finest minds of the Wizarding world. Once within range,   
the trio of Aurors cast the strongest Patronus charms in their ability.   
Having been chosen for this duty, because of their skills in this area,   
the Dementors were driven back throughout the prison into specially   
designed holding areas that protected the humans from the effects of the   
Dementors' cries.   
  
Moving swiftly through the prison, the men made their way down to the   
cell occupied by the prisoner. Their noses crinkled in disgust as the   
odors of the surrounding cells permeated their nostrils. Finally,   
outside the door to Snape's cell, they straightened his body out and   
pulled off the pants. Unbuttoning the shirt, one Auror gripped the   
collar of the shirt while the other two opened the cell. Moving the   
prisoner upright they removed the spells holding Snape immobile. He fell   
into the cell, the shirt pulling off his body and into the hands of the   
Auror. The Aurors quickly slammed the door shut and made their way   
quickly out of the prison. Behind them they could hear the screams of   
Snape as he cried his voice hoarse and slammed up against his cell door.   
His fists beat with futility against the door as his cries rose in   
volume. As they exited the prison, the spells holding the Dementors   
captive were released and rolling after the Aurors as they boarded their   
boat were the screams of the prisoners as the Dementors swept through   
the corridors of the prison, feeding in a frenzy.  
  
By the time they had reached the island and had returned to the safety   
of their offices, the prison was back to normal. Erik went to his office   
and activated the recording threads in Snape's cell for viewing. The man   
was throwing himself against the walls of his cell, bloodying his hands   
with the force of his blows. He fell to the floor writhing in agony as   
the Dementors entered his cell. Erik transmitted the images to Minister   
Weasley and went to join his co-workers for afternoon tea.  
  
******  
  
The next morning, Albus set out snacks for his visitors. Right on time   
at eleven o'clock, the gargoyles signaled the arrival of Minerva and   
Harry. Minerva came into his office, followed by Harry and with a quick   
greeting to them both, the three sat down in front of the fireplace for   
a nice chat and a few scones.   
  
As Harry helped himself to tea and scones, Albus poured a cup for   
himself and Minerva. Handing her the cup, the two chatted about the news   
of the school while waiting for Harry to finish heaping his plate with   
food.  
  
Once Harry was settled, Albus graced the two before him with a smile and   
began.   
  
"Hermione will be paying me a visit in a week or so. At her convenience   
of course. She is looking into the history of the trials of the Death   
Eaters, particularly Severus' trial. I simply wanted to remind you two,   
that although you are to help Hermione to the greatest extent possible,   
you are still bound by the confidence of the testimony you have given.   
Under no circumstances are you to violate the sanctity of the tribunal."   
He turned to Harry with a rueful look upon his face. "I know this asking   
a great deal of you Harry, but you must be careful what information you   
impart to your friend. I must remind you that the safety of the general   
populous is at risk should you divulge too much information."  
  
Harry swallowed around his scone and took a sip of tea to clear his   
mouth. "If I have any questions, can I come to you, Professor?"  
  
"I believe in this instance, Professor McGonagall would be better suited   
to guide you in this endeavor. You both are in the same boat as it were.   
And if you help each other, this would be best."  
  
Minerva smiled at Harry, who gave a grin to his former head of house.   
  
"I'll always be available to you Harry, Professor Dumbledore, is   
unfortunately still rather busy between his duties here and some things   
at the Ministry. My door is always open, as is my floo. Feel free to   
contact me at any time."  
  
Harry nodded in thanks and relaxed back in his chair with a deep breath   
and started in on his second scone.  
  
Minerva gave him a grin and said "Are you sure you should be eating so   
much Harry? Do you not have a match against the Americans coming up?"  
  
Harry laughed and finished his scone, looking regretfully at the   
remaining one on his plate. "We're actually really worried about the   
match. No one expected them to make the semis, and if we lose, we'll be   
the laughing stock of the Quidditch world. Not to mention what the Daily   
Prophet will do to us in the press. They'll crucify us. Me particularly.   
They really look for a reason to put me on the front page. I've had to   
cast so many charms around my flat to stop them from peeking in through   
the windows. I miss Hogwarts, at least here I could change in private   
without worrying about being shown on the front page in my underwear."  
  
"Well, Harry, if you will accept some advice from a dithering old man,   
perhaps you should concentrate on the Snitch and not the, attributes, of   
the American Seeker. As I recall, you had a similar problem when you   
played against Hufflepuff and was it, Cho? You were rather distracted   
against her."  
  
The three laughed together, as Harry regaled his two former teachers   
with the plans of the English team as well as making sure they had   
gotten the tickets for the game the following week. All in all, a   
delightful conversation that everyone was sorry to see end as Harry   
thanked them for the tea as he had to return to afternoon practice.  
  
Minerva stayed behind, discussing with the Headmaster the usual problems   
of the school, most of which centered around the misbehavior of a few   
choice Slytherins. As always, Albus deferred to Minerva's   
recommendations to the detentions and their discussion soon turned to   
more pleasant matters. Biding Minerva goodbye as she went off to teach   
her afternoon Transfiguration class with the third year Gryffindors, he   
turned his attention to the letter sent to him by Hermione a few days   
ago.  
  
Reading over the parchment with a chuckle and a smile, he dashed off a   
note inviting her to dinner at Hogwarts the following week. With a quick   
summons, a school owl flew to him, and with a pat, the invitation was on   
its way to Hermione. Certain of her acceptance, he contacted the house   
elves and asked them to prepare a feast for the dinner a week hence,   
when Miss Granger would return to Hogwarts. The first step along her   
journey.   
  
******  
TBCÉ 


	10. Knowledge

A/N- Sorry for the delay. Anyhoo_ Happy New Year y'all, and thanks go  
out to Trish, for writing some fun smut and the nice little pleading   
emails asking if I was alive, and to Fleab, who drew a phenomenal   
picture for Fugue, I was blown away.  
------  
see disclaimers and warnings in Part One  
  
Fugue State 10  
******  
  
Hermione stared at the invitation with absolute relief. The breath she   
hadn't realized she had been holding for weeks released and she relaxed,   
because she had hit the proverbial brick wall. All the books, all her   
research had yielded absolutely nothing. Nothing, not even Skeeter with   
her voracious desire for gossip, had had any results. Adding to her   
frustration was her research into the trial procedures of the Wizarding   
world. As distasteful as the proceedings had been, they had been legal.   
Her thoughts returned to the image of Snape, shackled in that chair, and   
she swallowed in distaste. Invitation in hand, Hermione went to her   
kitchen for a drink of water. The cool water stifled the bile she had   
felt rising in her throat and she sat back on the sofa, reading the   
invitation once again. She gave a quick grin in relief and looked out   
the window into the afternoon light, the shadows lengthening throughout   
her rooms as she felt at ease for the first time in weeks.  
  
Her eyes closed as she reclined into the couch, and she tried to make   
sense out of the great amount of non-information she had read. Ginny had   
sent her paper to Hermione a few days before and Hermione had read it   
with a growing sense of unease. Ginny was, predictably, impressed by the   
trial. Cynically, Hermione attributed that to the fact that half the   
tribunal had been made up of her relatives. For all of Ginny's   
insistence that the trial would be the centerpiece of her report, most   
of the focus had been on Colin Creevey, star photographer. Warmed by the   
last rays of the afternoon sun, she dozed off, her last thoughts being,   
that perhaps she could get Harry to sign his trading card.  
  
The following week saw Hermione walking once more up the path to Hogwarts.  
The school had suffered some damage in the war to finally Rid the World of   
the evil dark lord. Some of the gargoyles still remained limbless and as   
such looked even fiercer than ever. Her eyes drifted over to the towers,   
grateful that no sign of the fires and explosions remained. Entering once   
more through the great doors, she looked around at the new students   
hurrying to dinner, they looked so tiny and cute.  
  
Professor McGonagall hurried down the hall and greeted Hermione with a hug   
and smile. She smiled back and together they walked to the Headmaster's   
office and the information she sought for weeks.   
  
Half an hour later, Hermione was ready to scream in frustration. So far   
the subjects covered had been: Quidditch, Charms and the state of   
Hogwarts. She had answered the polite inquiries about her parents, herself   
and even the state of her cat. Enough was enough.  
  
"Headmaster, I actually had a few questions for you, Harry and Professor   
McGonagall about Professor Snape and his past."  
  
Headmaster Dumbledore smiled over his glasses and passed the peas to Minerva.  
  
"I realized that, Hermione, but I felt that it might be prudent to save any   
questions you might have for dessert."  
  
"But I really had some questions for you about Professor's Snape tenure at   
Hogwarts."  
  
"Miss Granger, I do feel that perhaps Harry, Minerva and yourself would   
benefit from a little chat. If you have any further questions, I'll be happy   
to meet with you tomorrow, at your convenience, of course. If you three will   
excuse me now, I must attend to some business," said Dumbledore, rising and   
nodding his goodbye to the remaining diners at the table.   
  
A strange silence hung over the table. Harry broke it with a grin.  
  
"So, I heard you joined my fan club," He said smirking as he reached for the   
dessert.  
  
"Well, I thought about asking you to sign your trading card, but Crookshanks   
ate it."  
  
The three laughed as the tension surrounded the table eased and they all   
relaxed.  
  
"I guess I should start," said Hermione, playing with her fork and looking to   
her best friend and Professor McGonagall.  
  
"Go ahead, dear," replied Minerva.  
  
"I'd never been to any of the Death Eater trials before," Hermione stated,   
surprising even herself with the opening topic. "Are they always like that?"  
  
"Like what?" Harry asked, "I've never been either."  
  
Hermione was astounded by the information Harry had imparted to her. "I   
thought you had given testimony at quite a few?"  
  
"Well I had," answered Harry, helping himself to some tea and shortcake. "But   
the Headmaster felt it best for me to testify by pensieve. I really wanted to   
make people stop looking at me as the Boy Who Lived to Defeat the Dark Lord,"   
said Harry with a grimace. Almost immediately following the defeat of the Vile   
One, Harry had been stuck with his new moniker. One he hated as much as the   
previous one. "I mean, I wanted to get on with my life, and both the Ministry   
and the Headmaster felt it would be easier if I wasn't on display at the   
trials. Plus it would be safer. There was a fair amount of resentment among   
the families of the Death Eaters, and I really didn't need any blood feuds. I   
was tired of it all. Besides, I had to start Quidditch training, and the   
trials would have interfered with that."  
  
Hermione looked at Harry with growing astonishment, "you mean it was   
inconvenient to go to the trials to decide people's fate?"  
  
"Hermione," said Harry, and for once Hermione could see the man who had faced   
down the threat of a generation and survived, "they were Death Eaters. All   
that remained was deciding their fate. My testimony was necessary, but my   
presence wasn't. Besides," Harry said with a bite of shortbread, "it isn't   
like the pensieves could be altered. They were my memories, that was hard   
enough."  
  
Hermione looked at her plate. She hadn't really considered that Harry might   
have been sick of the whole thing. She had been. Once the battle was over, she   
had put it out of her mind. She hadn't wanted to go near the trials either. It   
only made sense that Harry had felt the same way. Somehow, she thought that   
Harry was different. That his role demanded more from him than everyone else.   
Her mouth twitched as guilt rose inside her, she was guilty of viewing Harry   
as something other than her friend and classmate. She looked up from her plate   
and saw her friend, just Harry, not the savior of the Wizarding world, but   
Harry, the boy who hadn't known anything about his past and magic before he   
come to Hogwarts. Harry smiled back at her and they grinned together.  
  
"Hermione, what is it that you keep searching for?" Minerva asked.   
  
"I guess, I just want to know about Professor Snape. I thought he was working   
for the Order. I mean, why was he sentenced to Azkaban? Also, why is there no   
mention of him anywhere? He isn't listed anywhere. It is although he never   
existed."  
  
Professor McGonagall looked at Hermione with a serious expression. "That is   
rather hard to explain. Suffice to say, Severus had, he did, quite a bit for   
the Order and our side, however there were some extenuating circumstances that   
held sway over him and his fate. Unfortunately, this time, they could not be   
overlooked."  
  
"What do you mean this time?"  
  
At that question, Harry glanced at Professor McGonagall and she gave him a   
quick nod. "Before, at the first trials," Harry began, "it was possible for   
the Headmaster to vouch for Snape. But this time, he did some things that even   
Dumbledore couldn't let him get away with." Harry answered.  
  
"Like what?" Hermione asked, leaning forward and looking at Harry.  
  
He shook his head and took a sip of tea. "I can't really go into that stuff   
Hermione, it is still classified. But, Snape did disobey Dumbledore, he did   
act outside what he was assigned to do and in doing so, he set his own fate."  
  
Hermione was troubled by the information, but again reminded herself that   
Snape did bear the Dark Mark. "But aside from his Death Eater activities, it's   
as though he doesn't exist, he never existed."   
  
"What do you mean?" asked Minerva, helping herself to the excellent cookies   
from the plate in front of her.  
  
"Well, Ginny brought this to my attention. Snape isn't listed anywhere. Not in   
any accounts of the final battle, but more importantly, he isn't even   
mentioned in any information about Hogwarts."  
  
"Ahh. For that you'll have to speak to Albus. I do believe it had something to   
do with both Severus' safety as well as that of the students. But certain   
measures had to be taken to protect everyone when Severus began to teach."   
answered McGonagall.   
  
Hermione nodded and started on her dessert. Of course she had to ask the   
Headmaster. After all, Headmaster Dumbledore had been the architect of the   
victory as well as the Head of the Order. Only he would be able to answer   
certain questions.   
  
"Would I be able to see the Headmaster tomorrow morning? I have class in the   
afternoon, and I'd like to get my questions answered. This has been bothering   
me for weeks and weeks."  
  
"I'll arrange it with Albus, Hermione. Perhaps you would consent to spend the   
night here at Hogwarts so you can visit with Albus early in the morning." said   
Minerva with a smile and a pat to Hermione's hand.  
  
Hermione smiled back and nodded, "I would love to spend the night. I miss   
Hogwarts."  
  
"Only you Hermione, would miss school." Harry laughed.  
  
The trio shared a laugh and the conversation turned to the students, both past   
and present. It was, a very pleasant dinner.   
  
*****  
  
Day and night were irrelevant in Azkaban. The prison had no windows, no yard   
for the prisoners to walk in, and nothing that marked the passage of time. For   
the prisoners held in the higher levels, they were able to gauge their time by   
the length of their hair. Little by little, month by month, their hair grew,   
unchecked and wild. For them, they watched and felt as their bodies aged,   
growing more infirm by each passing day. They sat, in their rags and waited   
for their hair to turn white and the day it stopped growing, the day they   
finally died. Slow and sure, they sank into the pit of death, watching as   
their days grew shorter and their hair longer. For them, the passage of time   
sapped their lives, inch by inch.  
  
For those in the lower depths, time didn't exist. They waited for the moments   
in which their cells were hosed down. The time between was static. They grew   
more disoriented by the minute, lost in a sea of darkness and pain. The   
Dementors flocking down upon them, seemingly without end. Their lives were   
forfeit. Slowly and surely, these prisoners were drawn into a void. The only   
release from the void were their thoughts, and even those became more   
disjointed as their sentences passed.  
  
Wolfsbane was complicated. Everything prepared in a prescribed order, the   
ingredients kept in perfect balance. One wrong move and the entire mixture   
ruined. If the balance was not maintained the result was futile and the beast   
released. Checks and balances, one batch leading to the other. The mixture in   
constant motion. Only a few people appreciated the poetry, the beauty of the   
cauldron, ever changing and always maintained. It was an exact science. Order,   
sequence and control over the elements, to change the basic nature of the   
beast. Mastery over the uncontrolled. From the cesspool that had engulfed his   
life, loyalty to one, deceit to another, hated by most, sublimation of self;   
there was love and beauty in the potions that ruled his life.   
  
It was pure.  
  
Within the cell, Severus screamed. In an instant it was gone, innocence,   
trust, secrets, and joy; sucked in a whirlpool of pain, despair and betrayal.   
Severus Snape lost himself again, this was his fate, his curse, him. His   
identity.   
  
He screamed.  
  
The Watchers watched. Once again the prisoner sat on the floor of his cell,   
his hands moving in a well-practiced rhythm, stirring and adding phantom   
ingredients.  
  
"Watch this." One said to the other. She released the Dementors from their   
cage and five of Dementors swarmed around the figure writhing on the floor of   
the cell. From their shelter far from the isle of Azkaban, the silent tableau   
emerged before them. It was much better with sound. They grinned at one   
another as one reached for his wand and tapped the bubble recording the images   
for posterity.   
  
"Sonorous," she sat back with her colleagues and listened to the concert of   
screams from the prisoner, echoed by the other prisoners in the adjacent   
cells. The frenzied feeding of the Dementors brings the voices into harmony,   
creating a chorus of the damned.  
  
"I wonder what he was brewing this time?" she said to the other watcher, the   
scene continuing to unfold before them, his screams permeating throughout the   
room.  
  
"Would you like some tea?"  
  
*****  
  
The next morning, Hermione awoke, stretching in the familiar walls of   
Hogwarts. She wondered if she would ever lose the wonder and sense of safety   
she felt within these walls. From the moment she had entered Hogwarts, she   
felt as though she belonged. With Harry's and Ron's assistance she felt able   
to cultivate her mind without alienating people. Her classmates sought her out   
to assist them in solving problems. Her intellect became a tool to be used,   
not something that pushed people away. There was a solution to every problem.   
An answer for every question. Within these walls, her desire to know, had led   
to knowledge beyond her dreams.  
  
Today, her questions would be answered.  
  
Dressing herself, she freshened up and walked with a light step to the   
Headmaster's office. At her approach the gargoyles stood aside and the   
passageway opened up and she climbed the steps. She entered the room and   
walked to the chair gestured to by the Headmaster with a quick smile and wave   
of his hand. A quick apology and she was alone in the room as Albus attended   
to some business. Relaxed in her chair, she looked around the office. It   
seemed unchanged since her first visit to the office, yet here and there she   
could see new nick-knacks and items, all blending in harmony with the rest of   
the office.  
  
Straightening as the Headmaster re-entered the office, Hermione waited to see   
what he would say.  
  
"Tea?"  
  
"Headmaster?"  
  
"Would you like some morning tea, Hermione? I find that the mind works better   
once a small amount of caffeine has been digested. Although Minerva chides me   
for drinking too much, I am British." said Albus with a smile and a gesture   
that brought a tray of tea and breakfast cake to the desk.  
  
Hermione accepted the tea gratefully and prepared herself as the Headmaster   
leaned back in his chair and waited expectantly for her to begin.  
  
"Headmaster," she hesitantly began, encouraged by the look Dumbledore gave   
her, "I had some questions concerning Professor Snape."  
  
"Surely you understand Miss Granger, that I'm bound by the trial and the   
safety of all concerned, not to reveal anything about that." replied the   
Headmaster.  
  
"No, no, I understand that," Hermione quickly assured the Headmaster. "I have   
a different question."  
  
"And that is?" Albus gently encouraged her to go on.  
  
"I wondered why there is no record of Professor Snape anywhere. Not in   
Hogwarts: A History, not in any accounts of the final battle, in fact it is   
although he never existed."  
  
"The problem being?"  
  
"Well, I certainly remember seven painful years of potions with him, I'd like   
to know why he has been expunged from history." Hermione wryly explained.   
  
"Unfortunately, Miss Granger, I have few answers for you. Severus was always   
secretive. His activities did not allow him for many chances to, walk in the   
limelight, one might say. And his eventual decisions cost him dearly. There is   
much he never confided to me, and his final actions were a complete betrayal.   
I can not answer your questions."  
  
"But surely Headmaster you understand the importance of this information. If   
only to stop anyone from following in his footsteps. If we know who he is,   
what he did, we can stop anyone from becoming like him." argued Hermione.  
  
Albus smiled, "I too would like to know the Severus' motives. Unfortunately,   
on my last visit to him, he proved singularly uncommunicative with me. In   
fact, he became rather agitated." replied Dumbledore.  
  
"You saw him?" Hermione eagerly asked, leaning forward, her tea forgotten and   
cooling on the desk beside her. "When? Before his trial? Because at the trial,   
he seemed catatonic."  
  
"No, my dear. Severus was unresponsive for quite a while following Voldemort's   
defeat. Had he stayed that way, we would have watched over him and cared for   
him until he died. Unfortunately, his return to awareness precipitated the   
trial and the outcome. I last saw Severus a little over a week ago, near   
Azkaban."  
  
"I thought prisoners couldn't have visitors?" Hermione asked, puzzled at the   
new information.  
  
"There have been significant changes made at Azkaban after Percy Weasley   
assumed charge, all for the better. One of these allows for the possibility   
that some prisoners can receive visitors. Severus is one afforded this   
privilege. He did serve us well, it is unfortunate the path he choose, but we   
do care for him."  
  
Hermione thought about the Headmaster's words, strangely comforted by the fact   
that Snape hadn't been abandoned.   
  
"Sir," she began, "would it be possible for me to see Professor Snape? If I   
can get the answers from him, then we can use the information to identify   
anyone else who might follow that path. Plus, it might do society good to know   
what he became. That way, people can learn from his mistakes."  
  
Headmaster Dumbledore considered her words, finally he responded, "I do agree   
with you Miss Granger, however I caution you, this will not be a pleasant   
experience. Severus is a prisoner in the harshest prison known to man. It is a   
very taxing experience. I ask you to go home and contemplate if you are   
willing to undertake this ordeal. No don't answer now." the Headmaster added,   
cutting off Hermione's interjection.  
  
"This is not something to jump into, no matter the reason. You must weigh your   
desire to know, with the practicality of the situation."  
  
Hermione found herself nodding and agreeing with the Headmaster's words. Her   
brief exposure to the Dementors had been horrific. She would have to make sure   
she would be safe before doing this.   
  
"Would I be able to ask Percy about the details of the visit? How I would be   
protected?" Hermione asked.  
  
"I will owl Percy and ask if he will meet with you to discuss the particulars   
of the visit. If after a week you still wish to go to the Isle, we can make   
the arrangements."  
  
"Thank you, Headmaster," said Hermione rising from her chair. "You've given me   
a great deal to think about, but I should tell you, I think this matter is   
fairly important. But, you are right, I do need to think about it," she said   
with a smile.  
  
"Remember, Hermione," the Headmaster warned, joining Hermione as he escorted   
her to the door, "this won't be found in a book, for this, your primary source   
will be Severus and he has never been one to divulge his secrets easily."  
  
"I promise I'll think about it Headmaster. I won't disappoint you." Hermione   
replied as she left his office, on her way out of Hogwarts.  
  
Dumbledore walked to the window and waited for the sight of Hermione walking   
down to the gates of Hogwarts.  
  
"I know Miss Granger, and I doubt you will this time." He said to the back of   
the figure.  
  
******  
TBC 


	11. Codebreaking

Disclaimers and warnings in Part one.. Yadda yadda yadda.  
  
------  
  
Fugue State Part 11  
  
*****  
  
Hermione arrived home, more confused than ever. Her last meeting with the Headmaster had done nothing to alleviate her concerns. As usual, Dumbledore was annoyingly enigmatic and cryptic. She should have been relieved, but settled on eating the dinner and trying to keep up with the conversation, all the while cursing omnipotent Headmasters. She was still grumbling two days later as she walked into a room, sat down waiting for the jailers to bring Snape up from the depths of Azkaban.  
  
She thought she was prepared, she'd seen the state of Snape at the trial, she'd been at the Final Battle, and thought nothing would ever shock her again. Seeing a battlefield and widespread death and destruction cured her of any reactions to the horrors of the world. But they weren't in the world. Here, she sat in a small, confined room staring across at a shell of a man. What had once been one of the most feared figures in the Wizarding World, Hermione knew he'd terrorized countless students, now was, well, nothing.  
  
He sat, staring blankly at her. For all she knew, he didn't even recognize her. She certainly had no clue what to say. They sat there in silence, Hermione fighting to keep from squirming in her chair, before she let out a sigh, this was hopeless, Snape looked worse, impossibly enough, than he'd been at the trial. Not to mention, she thought, crinkling her nose, smelt a little rank. Obviously, they'd cleaned him up a bit, but it probably would take more than a shower to get the stink out of him. She looked at his head, in relief this time, it would probably be worse if he still had hair. Unfortunately, the shorn head did nothing to enhance his looks. Then again, the prison outfit wasn't the most flattering. Snape never could have been called anything close to handsome, now he looked downright pathetic. To make matters worse, all he'd done since he'd been brought in was stare at her. She could be a wall for all the reaction she was getting from the man. Hermione ran her fingers through her hair in frustration, she had no idea how to get him out of the catatonic state he looked to be in. She started at the movement before her, Snape blinked, it was the first sign of life that she'd seen from the man.  
  
"Professor?" Nothing, she tried again. "Professor Snape?" Now they were getting somewhere. Snape actually looked at her, seemingly aware that a live person was before him. Hermione plunged ahead, "Professor, I guess you're wondering the reasons as to why I'm here. I wanted to discuss with you your actions right before the Final Battle. I also wanted to get some information about you. You seem to be the only person in the world without any records. I want to know why," Hermione spoke, the words rushing out of her. She felt as though she had to speak quickly, before Snape fell once again into non-awareness of the world around him.  
  
Snape, to her annoyance, didn't say anything. Hermione tried another tack. "Professor, can you understand me? I know you've been ill, but Professor Dumbledore informed me that he'd spoken to you on some prior occasions. I'd hoped you give me the courtesy of speaking to me in regards to my questions, I believe you owe me as much," at that, Snape reacted.  
  
"I'm not," the hoarse voice filled the room.  
  
"Not what?" Hermione queried.  
  
"Professor."  
  
Hermione felt at a loss at Snape's response, "Well, what do I call you?"  
  
Snape, it seemed, had said all he would say in the matter and lapsed back into silence. Hermione leaned forward, her arms crossed on the table, trying to get as close to the man across from her. She hoped that the increased proximity would aid in communication with the laconic man.  
  
"Would you rather I call you Severus?"  
  
At that, Snape almost seemed to smile. He closed his eyes, and Hermione feared that he'd lapsed into that somnolent state he'd been in before. She waited, starting at the voice that came from the man.  
  
"No."  
  
"Then what?" Hermione was definitely annoyed, she'd never get anywhere if Snape were incapable of anything other than monosyllabic answers. She fought to keep from shaking him, of course, the barrier between them forbade any physical contact, but she continued. "Snape, do you even know who I am?"  
  
Once again, Snape's only response was to blink at her, she never thought she would miss the sneer, but she thought the blink was a thousand fold more annoying. "Snape," she tried again, her voice rising, "we'll get nowhere if you can't continue the conversation."  
  
"Where are we going?"  
  
Wonderful, thought Hermione, not only was Snape out there, he'd now become absolutely cryptic. "We're trying to have a conversation. I'm attempting to get information out of you."  
  
"About?"  
  
Hermione wished they hadn't taken her wand, with it she could summon cue cards to assist Snape. He obviously was incapable of maintaining a coherent train of thought. "I told you."  
  
"Listen."  
  
"To what?"  
  
"Everyone."  
  
"Pardon? Look, Snape, I came here for answers. You owe me that."  
  
"Everyone knows."  
  
"No one knows anything. That's why I'm here, don't you understand? I want you to explain," Hermione stated, bringing her hand down on the table with a bang. She flinched at the sound her palm made in the room, it echoed throughout.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Snape," Hermione snapped, "you're here. You committed treason. You've been tried and convicted as a Death Eater. You betrayed the most respected man in the world and now you sit here spouting nonsense. I came here for answers."  
  
"You haven't asked the questions."  
  
"Snape," Hermione said, fighting to keep from screaming in frustration, "all I've done is ask you questions, you haven't answered a thing."  
  
"Not the right questions."  
  
Hermione considered the man before her. He hadn't altered his expression, his face remained blank, voice hoarse and cracked, perhaps from nonuse. Hermione tried not to think of the alternative, that he'd damaged it from screaming. There'd been nights when Sirius had tried to take their minds off the coming battle. Unfortunately, Sirius' method had been to talk about things that were more horrifying than waiting to go into combat, it turned out that being in prison was fairly horrifying. Hermione's attention returned to the man before her.  
  
"Then what do you want me ask?" she said, returning to the conversation at hand.  
  
"You have to listen."  
  
Hermione looked around for something to throw at the man before her. Unfortunately, the room was completely bare. "Snape, you aren't making any sense. I went to considerable trouble to visit you, I've been told that this is a privilege they've accorded you. You could show some appreciation and give me the information."  
  
Snape had the audacity to laugh at Hermione's last statement. To her surprise, he leaned into her, or at least she thought he would have done so, if he weren't restrained from head to toe.  
  
"You aren't listening."  
  
"Stop repeating yourself."  
  
Snape looked at her, his eyes alight with intelligence. His mouth twitched and his eyes darted to the wall and around the room. "Look around, Miss Granger, everyone is listening."  
  
"So?" she spoke, fighting to keep the annoyance out of her voice. "I'm not asking for any state secrets. I just want to know certain things. You owe the Order, the people you betrayed, the reasons why, an explanation for your actions."  
  
"Again, you aren't asking the correct questions."  
  
"Snape,"  
  
"What you ask isn't for you to know. Not for me to tell. You" at this, the Snape sneer seemed to return, albeit rather muted, "you deserve nothing."  
  
At that, Hermione lost patience with Snape, "What do you mean by that? If anything, you owe us. You're the betrayer. You're imprisoned. The very least you could do is try to prevent someone else from making the same errors you've made. You seem to have made a cock-up of your entire life. Wouldn't you like to stop others from doing so?"  
  
"You keep saying that. In actuality, you owe me. Everyone here owes me. I'm the keeper."  
  
"The keeper of what?"  
  
Now she was absolutely confused, "isn't that the position you played in Quidditch? What does that have to do with any of this? If you're talking about information, then your refusal to answer my questions is pointless. From what I understand, you're never getting out of here. In fact, it would seem to me that everyone has gone to considerable trouble to ensure that you will die in here."  
  
Snape stared at Hermione, the silence stretched before them, as he pondered his response. Snape attention left her to a movement behind her as the door opened and the guards entered the room. She turned to face the guards, annoyed at their intrusion.  
  
"I thought you told me I could talk to him," she snapped at the men.  
  
"Not for an indefinite period, Miss Granger," the head guard apologized. "I'm afraid the prisoner must be returned to his cell. It will be dinner time soon, and he needs to be returned."  
  
"Ahh, they must be fed."  
  
"Who?" said Hermione, trying to follow the conversation, Snape, it seemed, was incapable of normal conversation. "Please," she said, addressing the guards, "let me have some more time. He hasn't been at all cooperative, and I really need to get this information out of him."  
  
The guards conferred with one another, after what seemed to be an interminable amount of time, they agreed to her request. Once again, she and Snape faced off against one another.  
  
"How do you propose to do that, Miss Granger? You seem unable to listen to me," Snape replied.  
  
At this, Hermione finally snapped, "all I've done is listen to your nonsense. You haven't given me a straight answer all afternoon. What do you expect me to do? Sit here while you dance around my questions?"  
  
"But Miss Granger, I am unable to dance at the moment," reminding her about the restraints that bound him. "You, on the other hand, are the one doing the dancing. I am unfamiliar with the steps, fortunately."  
  
Hermione looked at the obviously deranged man before her, belatedly realizing that during her last statement, she'd stood up. Snape, it seemed was still capable of driving her insane. She sat down and tried to gather herself, one of them had to keep the conversation on a sane track.  
  
"Do you like potions?"  
  
"Pardon?" Hermione fought to keep the astonishment from her face. Of course she liked potions, she'd only despised the teacher.  
  
"Potions. They're beautiful. Finite. Infinite. Purity." Snape replied, closing his eyes as he spoke the words. Hermione wondered what he was seeing.  
  
"I don't understand. What are you trying to tell me?" she asked.  
  
"You have to find the questions."  
  
Hermione sighed, they had returned to this nonsense. "Well, where do I look?"  
  
Snape smiled at her, his eyes still closed, he remained like that until the guards finally brought the session to an end. Hermione watched as Snape was taken away, she was no closer to the answers she sought. Her only thought was to petition to get Snape out of Azkaban and perhaps into the locked ward at St. Mungo's, maybe with a little medication, Snape might be brought up to something close to coherency.  
  
*****  
  
The day after her visit with Snape, Hermione sought out Professor McGonagall. Perhaps she'd have some insight into Snape's bizarre statements. Hermione cursed herself once she'd returned home, although she's written down their conversation as soon as possible, she was certain she'd forgotten a few salient points. Ron and Harry's teasing to the contrary, she didn't have a photographic memory. The conversation with Snape had meandered in so many directions, she'd gotten lost at some point.  
  
Hermione walked into the Cozy Willow Room, the best tearoom in all of Hogsmeade, in fact probably in all of England. No matter where she'd gone with her parents, she'd never found a place to equal the CWR when it came to High Tea. She found her former professor eating scones as if there were no tomorrow. Hermione seated herself with a smile, rescued the last scone and formulated her questions.  
  
"Thank you for meeting me on such short notice, Professor," Hermione began-  
  
"Please, dear, I've told you many times, call me Minerva," interrupted McGonagall.  
  
Hermione blushed at the gentle rebuke, "I know, but, well, it's been hard to think of you as anything other than my professor."  
  
"I know," McGonagall said, patting Hermione on the hand, "but I do believe we're colleagues now, or at the very least, friends. Friends are generally on a first name basis."  
  
"Thank you, Minerva," Hermione replied, stumbling just a bit on the name. "I really had a purpose other than a social call."  
  
"You really should relax more, Hermione," Minerva replied. "One can never focus on business all the time. Your friends, Harry in particular have learned how to enjoy life. Although to Harry's credit, that sometimes gets him in more trouble than he used to get in while at school," Minerva stated, sipping serenely at her cup of tea.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"You didn't accompany us to the Quidditch match last week," stated Minerva.  
  
Hermione thought back to whatever it was Minerva was talking about, remembering at last, Harry's match. "Well, no. I had some reading to catch up on," she replied, trying to avoid the fact that she'd completely forgotten about the match. Hermione cast her mind to her flat and saw the ticket sitting on her dresser, if she'd known she wouldn't have gone, she'd have sold the ticket. It, like all of the matches Harry played in, had been completely sold out.  
  
"Honestly, Hermione, I thought you'd learnt how to relax some. You seem to have returned to all your workaholic patterns. You seemed much more relaxed earlier this year. Harry, on the other hand, might serve with a little of your dedication. Honestly, sometimes that boy will be the death of me," Minerva smiled while sipping her tea at her last words.  
  
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, signaling to the matron for some more scones. While she'd been distracted by the conversation, Minerva had stolen her remaining half a scone.  
  
"Harry spent most of the match mooning over the opposing Seeker, when she caught the snitch, he actually applauded. I understand that our Mr. Potter has been put on notice in regards to his behavior," Minerva replied, nibbling on one of the fresh scones.  
  
Hermione quickly grabbed a scone and placed it far away from her former Head, "I actually had a purpose for seeing you here today."  
  
"I know, dear. I'm not without my resources. I understand you visited Severus yesterday."  
  
Hermione almost dropped her scone in her lap, "I wasn't aware that my actions were monitored."  
  
"Of course they aren't," Minerva placated Hermione, reaching over and patting her hand, "Albus does tend to keep me informed on the whereabouts of my best student. Besides, you had spoken about it previously."  
  
"Yes," Hermione conceded, "it was a fairly useless visit."  
  
"What do you mean?" Minerva asked. "Do you want the last scone?"  
  
"What? No, go ahead," said Hermione, gesturing to the plate between them. "To get back to the subject, do you think it might be possible to get Snape transferred to St. Mungo's?"  
  
"Why on earth would you want to do that?"  
  
"Because the man is deranged. I couldn't get a straight answer out of him the entire time. Our conversation was one bizarre circle after another, quite frankly he made no sense."  
  
"What did he say?" Minerva asked.  
  
"Well, that's another problem. I tried to write down everything that he said, but I know I forgot some of it. It was difficult to follow his train of thought, it barely made sense, the primary thing I remember, was that he kept repeating to me that I wasn't asking the correct questions," Hermione stated.  
  
"Questions about what?"  
  
"That's my point!" Hermione yelled, quieting as she saw the other occupants of the room turn their attention to the pair of women. "He wouldn't tell me," she continued in a quieter tone. "I just wish I had an exact record, maybe, with some distance I could figure out what he was talking about."  
  
"Actually, I have something that could be of assistance for you," said Minerva, as she reached into her handbag. She removed what looked to be a remembrall and handed it to Hermione. "Albus thought you might need some assistance, so he contacted the wardens and they made you a copy of your visit to Azkaban."  
  
Hermione looked at the ball in her hand, "do you mean that this has our conversation?"  
  
"Why, of course."  
  
Hermione looked at Minerva in amazement, "how is it, that the Headmaster always seems to be five steps ahead of everyone else?"  
  
"Well, he wouldn't be Albus Dumbledore if he weren't, would he?" Minerva replied, with a chuckle.  
  
"What I really wanted to do, is try an get an idea of how to, at the very least, get control of the conversations with Snape. He was so cryptic and bizarre yesterday that I was at a loss. He used to be so precise," Hermione addressed to Minerva.  
  
"Yes, well, Severus always savored control," replied Minerva. "Can I help in any other way?"  
  
"Well, I know most of what you said was sealed, but could you give me an idea of why you gave evidence against Snape?" Hermione asked. "If I'm on the wrong track, perhaps I need to approach this from another angle."  
  
"I can't tell you what it was that I said, unfortunately. I can, however, tell you why I said it," Minerva answered.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because, Severus betrayed us," Minerva said, her fierce gaze pierced the calm that surrounded Hermione and once again brought her to the reality of trying to understand Snape.  
  
*****  
  
That night, Hermione reclined on the sofa, drained from viewing the conversation. She'd broken down the conversation with Snape into parts. He'd been correct, she hadn't asked the right questions. What she should have said, what she would ask the next time she saw the man, was very simple, not why, but who. To whom were his actions directed towards and how did he do it. It came down to the mechanisms of his actions, that of the others and finally, the results thereof. Snape was a creation, he'd been wearing a mask in the room, as surely as the mask he'd worn while she'd attended Hogwarts.  
  
The answer was in who asked him to don the masks, both then and now.  
  
Hermione looked again at the ball in her hand, that glowed ever so softly, 'he's always five steps ahead of everyone.' Her head fell backwards and she looked out onto the stars. She fell asleep to the rhythm of hands stirring a cauldron. Potions they were, simplicity, complexity, but always a formula, something created by man.  
  
By one man in particular.  
  
*****  
  
TBC-  
  
A/N I promise, back online and updates coming weekly. isn't cryptic, tortured Snape a fun guy? 


	12. Paperwork

Disclaimers and everything else in Part One. Don't faint  
  
Fugue State Part 12  
  
*****  
  
Percy Weasley still gazed in wonder each time he stepped into his office. He had no less than three assistants, four secretaries and two private floos. One floo connected him directly with the office of his father, the Minister of Magic, the other, Albus Dumbledore. Next to those two men, Percy imagined himself to be the third most important man in the Wizarding world. He might not have the mystique of Albus Dumbledore or; the sex appeal and the entire Man-That-Killed-The-Very-Dead-Dark-Lord that Harry had, but he, Percy Weasley, had something else, and face it, out of all things he could have done, Harry had opted out of everything to play Quidditch. A game.  
  
Percy snorted softly to himself, his father might be the Minister of Magic, but Arthur was a tad too obsessed with the Muggle toys he collected. Muggles were fine and all that, but honestly, there should be limits. There was much to do in this period of re-organization and too much focus on outside influences was sure to cause problems.  
  
Everything that came across his desk had its proper place. Every bit of information he had ever received was properly categorized and sorted. This would be his mark upon the world. He would be the vanguard in bringing order to replace the chaos that existed in the aftermath of four decades of guerrilla and then outright, war.  
  
He frowned as he came across a message marked 'eyes only.' Not that this was unusual, not at all, he received these on a daily basis, being who he was and all; but this one required his immediate attention. He stepped over to the fireplace and called one of only two men whose messages required an instant reply.  
  
"Albus Dumbledore!"  
  
No response. He tried again, this time adding a touch more of powder, "Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry." He waited for a decent time, frowned and closed the connection. The Headmaster, it seemed was out. Percy would never criticize the Headmaster for not being readily available, but honestly, Percy was a busy individual. The Headmaster had sent him a message; certainly the Headmaster couldn't expect Percy to stand to attention by the floo until the Headmaster deigned to answer. Percy settled for flooing in a message to the Headmaster, notifying him of his availability and schedule for the day. For all of his irritation, Percy was well aware it would do him no good to antagonize the man. That chore settled, Percy set about the rest of his day, most importantly, the reports of Hermione's visit to Snape.  
  
One hour later, Percy shook his head in amusement, Snape, it seemed, hadn't learnt a thing during his rehabilitation. The circumstances of Snape's confinement to Azkaban, while never having been made public, much to Percy's irritation, still afforded him a luxury most did not have, the chance to understand his crimes. Snape could try and at least, seek forgiveness from those he had wronged. The prisoner had other ideas, Percy mused. He drafted a letter to the keepers, instructing them to intensify their efforts in regards to Snape's treatment, the man obviously needed to get a clue.  
  
******  
  
Several hundred kilometers away, Albus Dumbledore stood in his office patting Fawkes. His beloved phoenix was days away from immolation and rebirth and hence, was, a little cranky. Albus offered Fawkes a sweet but the phoenix shied away from it and retreated to a far corner of the office to hide until his plumage returned to its former magnificence. Dumbledore settled down at his desk to read the note from Percy. He found himself smiling with some amusement. The boy's ego needed coddling. It served Dumbledore's purpose to keep Percy happy, yet the boy should never assume too much. He was Albus Dumbledore, and as such, he was charged with the safety of all those under his wing, not just impatient Ministry workers. Percy did, however, have his uses, and therefore should be allowed to have some measure of respect, if only for his own self-importance. The more Percy felt in control, the less attention he would pay to what the Headmaster actually wanted from him, and this next request had to be handled quite delicately. Those thoughts in mind, Albus flooed Percy, noting the availability Percy had messaged to him.  
  
"Mister Weasley, are you available?" Albus inquired.  
  
There was the inevitable shuffling of papers, but very quickly, Percy's head appeared in the fireplace.  
  
"Yes, Headmaster, thank you for replying."  
  
"Actually, it is I who should be thanking you, I realize you are probably very busy and I thank you for being so prompt in replying to me. I apologize for not being available when you called previously," replied Albus.  
  
"Please don't apologize, Headmaster, it really isn't necessary. What can I do for you? Your message didn't give details, other than to contact you."  
  
"Ahh, yes, well, as you know, Hermione Granger paid a visit to our prisoner yesterday."  
  
"Yes sir. You did receive the recording, as requested?"  
  
"Of course, Percy. Once again, you've performed your duties admirably," Dumbledore paused as he considered his next words to Percy. "What I wanted to discuss with you is a request of a slightly different nature." Albus kept a straight face-not without difficulty- as Percy visibly straightened up and stuck out his chest at the Headmaster's words.  
  
"Anything, Headmaster, what can the Ministry assist you with?"  
  
"I wish for you to provide me with some other trial pensieves," replied Albus.  
  
Percy frowned at the Headmaster's request, "I thought you already had copies of all the trials?"  
  
"Yes, but my memory has proven to be a tad faulty lately. I would like to remind myself of some pertinent issues. As you know, I returned all the pensieves to you once I was done, yet some issues have arisen."  
  
"Well, of course, Headmaster, whose do you require?"  
  
"Well, not over an open connection, perhaps you and I could arrange a tea later in the week to discuss the details?"  
  
"Of course, may I check my schedule for openings?"  
  
Albus' hand hid his smile. "Of course, Mister Weasley, anytime within the next few days, if you please."  
  
"Certainly, Headmaster," replied Percy.  
  
"Good day, Mister Weasley," Albus said, biding Percy farewell.  
  
"And to you as well, Headmaster," said Percy.  
  
Albus broke the connection, returning his attention to his poor, bedraggled phoenix, now hiding in the crevices of the bookshelves. Without their plumage, phoenixes were certainly fairly pathetic creatures.  
  
*****  
  
Percy was frustrated, in the weeks following his last meeting with the Headmaster; he'd spent countless hours trying to decipher the conversation between Dumbledore and Snape. Not that he was obsessed by it, not at all. It just was, well, he was the person in charge of Azkaban; he had a right to know. Through his father's contacts he knew that Muggle prison operators did not have this problem. They recorded conversations; they had the right to listen into all conversations that took place in prisons. With the exception of advocate and prisoner conversations, Muggles were never in the dark. He swore to himself, Muggles never suffered the problems he had.  
  
It wasn't as if Albus Dumbledore was Snape's advocate, certainly not, Percy grumbled while watching the pensieve. He tried to lean directly over Dumbledore-nothing. In pure frustration, he found himself leaning into Snape, hoping against hope the words leaked to the other side. At this point, Percy was willing to admit defeat. As wonderful as pensieves were, they were not equipped to reveal information they hadn't recorded it in the first place.  
  
Percy tossed the pensieve back in its box, turning his attention to the latest reports. He'd taken to making duplicate recordings of Snape and his conversations with Hermione. If anything, these pensieves were even more annoying than the previous one. He sympathized with Hermione. Snape, rather than clearing up the matter had simply become more and more cryptic. Hermione had spent the last meeting yelling at Snape across the glass, trying to get the man to crack. That hadn't worked. Previously, she'd tried cajoling, reasoning and silence, trying to wait the man out. That session had been the most irritating one, two hours of complete silence between those two. His visits to Dumbledore were becoming strained as a result of the sessions between Snape and Hermione.  
  
It wasn't as though he was a nobody, not at all. The very fact that he'd been summoned to Dumbledore's office-well, honestly, he was a full-fledged official at the Ministry, not some assistant of little importance. He was someone. He sighed. For all that, he was still at the beck and call of the Headmaster. The thing to do was assert his authority over his domain, Azkaban. This was his territory, his triumph, the world looked to him, thanked him, for caging all the enemies of the state. He was necessary. He was important. Perhaps it was time he stopped being an absolute sycophant to Albus Dumbledore and struck out on his own. He needed to take control of the situation with Snape instead of waiting for the man to crack.  
  
Perhaps, Percy thought, the best way to get Snape to talk would be to remind him exactly why he was in Azkaban. The man was accustomed to regular baths, meetings with a young woman, and what could easily be termed, special, treatment. Quite simply, matters needed to be conducted with a firmer hand. Snape ought to be reminded that he was in Azkaban for serious crimes; crimes against the state and its people. Just because Hermione questioned him, did not entitle the man to forget the notion of punishment. Snape wasn't in Azkaban for vacation. It was time to remind the prisoner.  
  
*****  
  
Oblivious to the machinations outside his walls, Severus Snape was again mixing potions, badly. The longer he remained within these walls, the more he lost. Surprisingly, it was the simpler potions. The ones he'd learnt as a student, the first potion he'd made, were gone. The Wolfsbane potion became his mantra, the link to his sanity. The complexities kept him sane, all the while filling him with dread. If he lost everything but the potion he'd made for the idiot werewolf, where would he be? Confined within this cell, his only comfort the potion made for a creature. At least, he thought with a smirk, with him in here, Lupin would have to be caged on a monthly basis. The werewolf deserved as much. But, lost in his mind, Snape forgot, the basic rules of Azkaban. He'd forgotten to hide. He'd exposed himself to the dangers that existed in his cell, the fire of the Dementors.  
  
Children are taught about fire in several ways. Some are protected by their parents who teach that fire can hurt, they stop their children from reaching into the flickering flames. Another is letting the child have a taste of what fire can do. Letting a child hold a fingertip near the flame so the child can feel the heat and learn to be afraid of the fire. Some parents choose to ignore these safe methods. For them, the obvious solution is to lead their children into the fire. Teach the child to love the flames; but all the love notwithstanding, to forget that fire burns, even for an instant, is a lapse in judgment that will forever scar a person.  
  
In that instant, the moment Snape forgot, when he was brewing one of most complex potions ever created, he felt joy, and that was all it took: the Dementors swooped in.  
  
So he screamed, begged for the release that death would afford him. He raised his head, searching beneath the Dementor's hood for the kiss that would free him; again his life was removed from his control. His tormentor moved away at the moment their lips would have met, retreating to the far corner of the cell to allow another to take his place. Two more held Snape to the ground as the Dementors caressed his body and invaded his mind. Snape forgot, forgot the fact that fire burns and knowledge hurts, and he couldn't stop screaming.  
  
*****  
  
Hermione waited in the interview room. Snape was late. The cryptic bastard hadn't shown his ugly, shaved head. Come on, Hermione thought, it wasn't as though he could help it. She should be thankful the hair was gone. Who knew what ugly gestures would be infesting him if the hair were present. She gave a shudder, remembering how decrepit Sirius had looked upon his escape from Azkaban; Snape's condition would be ten times worse. But it was half past the hour and Snape still hadn't been produced.  
  
She stood up and banged against the glass, slamming her palm, then he fist against it, until a guard came in.  
  
"Where is Snape?" she demanded.  
  
"My apologies, Miss Granger, I just received notice that Snape will not be joining you today,"  
  
"What?"  
  
"It seems the prisoner has been acting up, so he's been confined to his cell for a period. Again, please accept our apologies."  
  
"I've been waiting half an hour, you couldn't of informed me sooner? The trip out here is anything but pleasant or convenient, it would be helpful to know, in advance, if Snape isn't available," Hermione ground out.  
  
"Again, we're very sorry Miss Granger, but perhaps you should check with Governor Weasley before making any further visits, as the Gov would be best informed when the prisoner is available."  
  
"Yes, I suppose I'll have to. Since you've inconvenienced me enough for one day, perhaps you'll be so kind as to return my wand and escort me out, immediately. I can't wait all afternoon," snapped Hermione.  
  
"Yes of course," said the guard, opening the door for Hermione, "Again, all you'll need to do is check with the Gov. I'm sure you'll get a satisfying response in a timely manner."  
  
Hermione stormed out, her mind less on Snape than on her Charms project which was due the following week. Master Juglenot needed placating; she'd been neglecting her work recently.  
  
*****  
  
Thanks go to Pigwidgeon for the superb beta on this chapter and Shadowycat for her encouragement and moral support. 


	13. Tours of the Psyche

Fugue State- Part Thirteen -----  
  
Hermione just knew she should be doing something else. Actually she should be doing a specific thing. She should be doing her Charms prep. Master Juglenot had most definitely not been pleased with her performance of late. It wasn't as though it were sub par, but Hermione was usually so far ahead of the class that anything less just smacked of her doing shoddy work. Unfortunately, she just couldn't seem to focus on anything other than Snape. Or rather the lack of Snape, the last disastrous visit to Azkaban had meant that three weeks had passed since she last laid eyes on the man. Her frustration mounted daily as her backlogged Charms work meant that visits to the prison were out of the question.  
  
She had a future to prepare for. All this focus on the past and the stagnant life of one former Potions Professor had gotten her absolutely nowhere other than to put her own future in doubt. Is this really where she wanted to go? Risk her career to get information out of a man that grew stranger by the minute? Not to mention the fact that she was starting to lose sight of the goal, which was what exactly? Find out why Severus Snape seemed to only exist in a potions lab? The delusional presence he now showed was nothing like the focused, if often irrational man that graced the corridors of her childhood. She seemed to be the only one who cared about the answers at all. Everything and everyone focused on the present and future wanting to put the awful years of conflict behind them. Why couldn't she get on with it? Get on with her life? Snape might be trapped in Azkaban, but she was trapped in a maze of bizarre statements and machinations that she barely understood. Which was the reason she acknowledged she had to find out the truth. If there was one thing Hermione hated, it was the unknown. Every problem had a solution, sometimes one just had to dig for it.  
  
Right, Hermione thought. Time to make a list.  
  
The next morning she stopped by the Owl Post to send a few owls here and there. First to Azkaban, then to Percy and finally to the Headmaster, all the owls contained the same note, a request to be allowed regular and uninterrupted access to one Severus Snape. She simply wouldn't get anywhere if Snape remained in his cell whenever she showed up. This way everything would be on a schedule. It would be orderly, it would be controlled and finally it would give her the final say in this untenable situation. It wasn't a moment too soon. Just this morning she'd awoken to the sound of an owl tapping on her window. It contained the apologies of the Minister, but informed her that Snape would be in isolation for the next month. Apparently the man had acted up and was now on restriction. Honestly, Hermione thought, couldn't the idiot contain himself for an instant? Surely he must realize that it did him no good to behave badly, after all, her visits got him out of his cell. Who wouldn't want that? Hermione attached a proposed calendar of visits and sent the owls on their merry little way. Then she hurried home, she had six feet of parchment overdue to Master Juglenot and he had been making threats to put her on probationary status if her work continued to be unacceptable.  
  
As things were wont to do in a bureaucracy, everything must be filed. Thus it was a full two weeks before Percy even noticed that there seemed to be an abundance of posts from Hermione. The girl must have lost her mind. Not only was there a very impertinent demand to be given regular access to Snape, she'd even had the gall to draw up a schedule! As if he, Percy Weasley needed anyone to tell him how to organize things. He was of the right mind to just deny the Hermione's request outright before he remembered that this was something Headmaster Dumbledore personally asked for. Hermione would be given access, but on Percy's schedule. He sat at his desk and with Hermione's request and calendar in front of him, set about devising his own visitation schedule. After all, things should be done on his terms and no others. He was the Governor of Azkaban and let no one forget, even if the girl was a personal friend of the Man-That-Killed-That- Very-Bad-Wizard. Harry Potter was off playing Quidditch, what did he know? He'd turned his back on the politics of society and just wanted to ride around on a little stick chasing a Golden Snitch. He, Percy Weasley, was going places and he would be the one to sort out who should visit and when. Percy paused mid-word to realize something. It had been ages since he'd last inspected Azkaban. He should do an inspection tour. He'd invite Miss Granger. It would do the girl some good to realize that many exceptions had been made for her visits to Snape. She'd do well to appreciate the accommodations that had been made, and would continue to be made for her. It was what the Headmaster requested. Percy would do his level best to see that everything was carried out to the letter of the law.  
  
Two weeks later Hermione once again faced the shores of Azkaban. It had taken all her strength, and a few choice words from Professor McGonagall, not to send out an immediate owl to Professor Dumbledore when she had received Percy's owl. Not only had the man changed her schedule, he had included a note stating that she could not see Snape again until she accompanied him on an official tour of Azkaban. Hermione had no choice but to accompany Percy on this ridiculous tour, and she seethed because of it. Percy, while well within his rights was being what Ron would call, "A Right Prick." Hermione sighed and bowed to the inevitable, it couldn't be all that terrible.  
  
She was wrong. It was worse. Four hours of Percy taking her from one side of the island to the other. And the man never stopped talking about this improvement, and that modification and well, just look at the new paint on the walls. It was all she could do not to slap the man. Although the Dementors were contained, she still felt their presence. What must it be like to have them floating by on a regular basis? She also couldn't help but wonder at the doors they hadn't gone in. Percy told her that the Dementors were locked behind those doors. Severus Snape was in one of these cells, locked away for life. But she was as determined as ever to keep up her visits, she needed to know now more than ever why the Professor had been sentenced here. There were some fates that were worse than death, and Hermione would bet every last sickle that to be entombed in Azkaban was at the top of the list.  
  
Throughout all of this, unaware of what passed above him, lay the object of Hermione's quest. He had managed to lose track of time. Frankly he'd lost a great deal, but it was this loss that affected him the most. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been outside his cell. His one way to track the weeks passing, his once weekly shower had gone. For whatever petty reason, his shower had been taken away. Now even he could smell the odor of his body. Not to mention, that of his mind. It was all he could do to keep a stranglehold on sanity and that was slowly slipping away from him. It must have been months since the last time he had seen Miss Granger, months since he could remember a Potions formula. Everything that he was, everything that he had been was slipping away into the ooze of the walls. He could feel the need of his body and mind to disappear and perhaps that was for the best. He'd done it before, he'd do it again. He'd do anything not to be aware of the descent into madness he was undergoing. But every time he felt himself at the breech, a Dementor would slide by, some slop would be thrown in, and he'd be brought to some semblance of awareness. It was torture knowing that he was being kept from slipping into the oblivion he so craved. He was in hell, as he so rightly deserved. Who was he to demand some peace? He was no one. He was nothing. He was well aware of the fact. His usefulness was at an end and perhaps against all odds he could find some peace. It was all he could hope for, but at the same time he knew that hope was futile in Azkaban.  
  
Albus Dumbledore looked at Fawkes in relief. The phoenix had finally grown into his new plumage and was looking as spiffy as ever. His new shipment of robes had come in and to cap off the absolutely splendid month he had been having, Miss Granger would be resuming her visits to Severus tomorrow. For all the boy had gone through, he had no desire to lose that fine mind. It just wouldn't do to have Severus Snape on the loose. He had betrayed him after all, and that deserved to be punished. But he had done all he could to protect him. But in the final review, Severus had done the unthinkable and that in and of itself was unforgivable. Perhaps it was cruel to keep him alive, but after all that Severus had done for the Order, Albus just couldn't bring himself to allow the Dementor's Kiss for Severus. Someday all would be forgiven. Even for a traitor such as Severus.  
  
Hermione once again returned to the Isle of Azkaban. Her confidence restored in the power of bureaucracy. She'd received and signed forms in quadruplicate that allowed her unrestricted access to Snape two times a week and once a month on weekends. Hermione felt she was prepared for the man this time. She'd gone over the previous conversations with Snape with a fine-toothed comb. She had a list of very probing questions and most of all; she had a schedule that would bring some order into this entire mess. It was like a formula, once one item was stirred in, the rest would follow in a regular progression. This wouldn't take long at all. She'd had over a month to prepare.  
  
How wrong she was. The man that entered the interview room was even more of a shell than to the one she'd previously seen. Snape must have dropped more than a stone in about a month. He looked like a walking skeleton. He smelt like a rotting corpse and worst of all, he seemed semi-comatose. His movements were robotic and he didn't respond to the change in his surroundings. Snape didn't even to be aware of the fact that he was in the room with her. He was an automation.  
  
"Look at me." Hermione commanded, and then waited to see what would happen  
  
It took over an hour before those simple words penetrated Snape's fogged mind. He looked up at her, with unfocused eyes and stared blankly at her face.  
  
"Do you know who I am Professor?"  
  
Snape stared at her without response. The silence overpowered the room and before she knew it, visiting hours were up and Snape was being led out of the room. Hermione shook her head in disgust. There was obviously a great deal of lost ground to make up.  
  
Legions below, in the bowels of Azkaban, Severus Snape was becoming aware. Obviously decades had not passed, that woman... Granger was still alive. He was still alive. Perhaps he was not as far gone as he previously thought. He needed to bring his mind to bear. He needed to regain his faculties. Slowly, painstakingly, and with the skills of a child, he began to recite the potions ingredients he remembered. Hour after hour they became clearer. The next day, he remembered the formula for Wolfsbane. The day after that, Hermione came back. For that, he would hate her for all eternity. She alone kept him from slipping away. The only thing worse than being mad in Azkaban was keeping one's sanity. Now he knew what he had lost and he would make them all pay. They would pay for his sins and for theirs. Revenge was at hand and even in Azkaban it smelt like sweet dew on a summer morning. He could almost taste it. -----  
  
Hermione was amazed at the difference in Snape upon the second visit. He was still cadaverous, looked like walking death and continued to smell, but the man seemed to have regained a sense of equilibrium. He actually focused on her as he was brought into the room. Paid attention to her as he was manacled to the chair and waited expectantly for her to start. She suddenly felt a little nervous. Hermione had the distinct impression that although only a few days had passed since she'd last seen Snape, he'd somehow taken control of the situation. It felt like she had to prove herself to him once more. And as always, he'd find her lacking.  
  
"So, umm, shall we begin Professor?" Hermione asked, cursing herself at the stammer.  
  
Snape's lip curled upwards, "I thought we'd covered this before Miss Granger, I am no longer a Professor, in fact I am no longer much of anything. I fail to see why you want information out of me. After all is said and done, the side of Light won. The world is free from Voldemort's tyranny and all is as it should be."  
  
"Yes. I mean no. It isn't all right. You are locked in here for treason. Your trial was in secret and you couldn't even defend yourself. Not to mention the fact that in twenty years no one will even think about you. There's no record of you anywhere."  
  
"As it should be."  
  
"No. It shouldn't. Something about this all seems very wrong."  
  
"And you are so concerned with righteousness are you Miss Granger? Who appointed you the purveyor of all that is true? You are nothing but a Muggle-born witch with delusions of grandeur that seem to stem from being part of Harry Potter's inner circle. Tell me, why isn't the vaunted Mr. Potter here with you now? Where is the savoir these days."  
  
"Harry, if you must know, is playing Quidditch. He's out enjoying life."  
  
"And yourself? What lessons did you take from the battlefield? How are you enjoying your victory?"  
  
"I'm studying Charms with Master Juglenot, one of the foremost practitioners of the art."  
  
"So if I understand things properly, Potter is off riding a broomstick and you are ensconced in a pile of books. Did you learn nothing from the War? You are doing nothing with your life that wasn't previously ordained. How droll."  
  
"You're one to talk. You committed treason. You're locked up here. You're nothing but a convict."  
  
"And yet you are here Miss Granger. As opposed to following your studies, and you have yet to seem to want anything but vague answers. What are you looking for?"  
  
"I want... I want to know why." Hermione finally managed to get the words out.  
  
"Why? What an uninspired choice. Somehow I expected more from the 'brightest Witch of a generation' you have become so dull Miss Granger. Not that this is much an improvement from when you were a student. You were a robot with hand thrusting automatically in the air at the slightest hint of a question. Your only place to shine was the classroom and I fear you are incapable of any original thought. You follow Miss Granger. You follow the leads of others to the detriment of self. I truly thought this might be a challenge. You did seem so much more involved in the courtroom."  
  
"You knew I was there?"  
  
"You were the only one that looked upset at the outcome. Which was of course all that could have happened."  
  
"You could have been given the Dementor's Kiss."  
  
"Miss Granger, if you really believed that might happen, despite all your hatred towards me, I do believe you might have actually fought for me. No, for all your bravado, you sat idly aside and watched them sentence me. Although I should give you some credit, at least you had the tenacity to face me. Unlike Potter."  
  
Hermione rose to her feet at Snape's words and furiously shouted at him. "You have no right to criticize Harry. He's earned the right to do what he wants. He spent his life battling Voldemort and..."  
  
"Yes Miss Granger. Harry Potter was the only individual in the entire Wizarding World who battled Voldemort."  
  
"That's... " Hermione fought for words.  
  
"Surely you realize that nothing you say to me is sacrosanct. Nor is it private. If you want a window into my soul Miss Granger you're going to have to look elsewhere. If you want me to absolve you of your sins then by everything that I possess, you are forgiven." Despite Snape being immobilized Hermione knew that he was bowing his head to her.  
  
"You should be on your knees begging for my forgiveness you traitor."  
  
"Unfortunately I find myself unable to do anything of the sort. I'm rather tied to the chair at the moment. Perhaps you'd like to request my release from the restraints?"  
  
Hermione reached for wand, forgetting until her hand came up empty that it was in the hands of the jailers. Snape laughed and looked at her. The bastard never lost his cool.  
  
Snape continued. "Perhaps Miss Granger your answers lie elsewhere. In memory I suppose. The answers you seek are around you. You just have to look."  
  
"Where?" Hermione cried in near frustration. "Everything is sealed."  
  
Snape only smiled. For the first time it was he who signaled the guards to take him back to the cell. Hermione collected her belongings and made her way back to London. When she arrived there was another invitation from Harry to join him at a Quidditch match and after-party this weekend. She sent her response. This one she wouldn't forget. Harry was one of only three witnesses against Snape. It might be time to get her answers directly from the mouth of her friend.  
  
-----  
  
End thirteen  
  
A/N: Thanks to everyone that's written me in the break between chapters. I'll not make any vacant promises, but I can state that I'm writing again... manic 


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